Red Riding Hood
by Sara Nublas
Summary: A string of weird crimes going back forty years, a mysterious girl and a manhunt in the woods. The BAU rushes in the desperate attempt to rescue two of their own.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Red Riding Hood

**Author**: Sara Nublas

**Characters**: Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, all team involved

**Rating**: T

**Warning**: violence and creepy scenes

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the show 'Criminal Minds', its characters or the tale of Little Red Riding Hood

**A/N**: Many people to thank for this story: withouttracelover996 for the prompt, Nix1978 for patiently listening to my ideas, freddlerabbit for the beta reading! Thank you!

Reviews will be very appreciated, they'll make my day and will soothe my anxiety about my stories being boring and ugly rants :)

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><p>"Once upon a time there was a happy family living in the middle of the forest," a woman sitting on a rocking chair near the fireplace starts the story, while two children, a boy and a girl, are looking at her intently. "They lived out of the products of the land, protected by the Gods of the woods. In change for the hospitality they had made a deal with the Gods: to protect their land from the visitors and to keep them safe from the people from the Outside."<p>

"The people from the Outside?" the boy asks curious.

"Yes, Kyle" the woman replies, "Outside of the woods there is a dangerous scary world. The people living there rejected the power of the Gods and rebelled against nature a long time ago. Those people are greedy, evil and vicious. Don't trust them for any reason if you encounter them. If you did, I cannot even think of the horrible things they would do to you" she stops, her voice cracked, on the verge of tears.

The little girl, who has been silent so far, gets closer and hugs her, "Don't worry, mom. We will never trust anybody but you and dad."

The woman seems to calm down hearing the promise of the little girl, "I know Sylvia, but sometimes it's easy to believe their lies and think they are actually good people."

Right then, a desperate cry comes out of the basement, causing all of them to turn suddenly toward of the source of the noise.

In absolute silence, they listen.

The woman swallows and wipes the tears from her face, a new determination arising in her eyes. She takes the kids close to her and searches their gaze, "Listen to me carefully, you two. There's something really important you have to know and to remember, always. Your dad and I won't always be able to protect you. If something happens to us, you'll have to remember how to stay safe…"

Tears immediately fill the children's eyes, as soon as their mother's hard words sink in.

Then Kyle sobers up, remembering a speech about being a man his father gave him a few weeks before, in the woods. _A man never cries; he makes sure his family is fine and does everything necessary to protect them._

"What do we do if we meet the people from the Outside?" he asks with resolution, raising his chest and pushing back the tears.

His mother looks at him and at the young girl with an afflicted yet serious expression, remembering that she was the same age when she was taught _the rule_.

"If you meet someone from the Outside, you can't just avoid them. They crossed a line and they invaded sacred territory. Since it is our duty to protect these woods, you'll have to offer the Gods a tribute to calm their fury, otherwise they'll punish you and you will be exiled forever, never to return." The woman warns them, her eyes wide and her voice stern.

"What do we have to do, mother?" Sylvia asks, now trying to be as brave as her brother is proving to be.

The woman opens her mouth to speak, when a last, desperate, almost inhuman scream comes from the basement, interrupting her.

This time the kids don't turn toward the source of the noise; they willingly avoid staring at the trap door on the floor, that so many times prodded their fantasies and appeared in their nightmares. They just get closer to their mom and entwine their hands together with hers. Waiting for something to happen.

They startle a little when the noise of a dead weight thumping on the floor breaks the stillness of the moment.

The three slowly move their gaze to that dreaded spot on the floor, without a move, holding their breath; the logs sparking in the fire being the only noise in the room.

Their heartbeats increase a little as a sound of approaching steps on the stairs is followed by a click in the lock of the trap door. The hinges squeal and the door noisily falls on the wooden floor, making the two kids jump.

A well-built man, with red stained clothes and surly demeanor, comes out of the hole and looks at his wife with an expression between exhausted and relieved. The two kids jump up, hands in the air, running toward their dad and hugging him around the waist. He places one hand on each of kids' shoulders and looks at them, hinting at a tired smile; then he turns to his wife, saying "take their coats, the kids are coming with us".

The woman, for a moment thinks of objecting to that decision, knowing that after this lesson everything will be different and her children will lose a part of their innocence forever, but then a pang of pain on her shoulder, reminds her of how unfortunate an idea it is to contradict her husband. She nods and complies quickly.

The kids, quickly forget the fear of the previous moments and get all excited at the idea of a trip in the woods, in the middle of the night, "Where! Daddy where are you taking us?" Kyle demands.

"A night in the woods," Sylvia squeals, excited.

"It's not a fun trip, kids" the man calms them down; "We're taking you to learn what happens to the people from the Outside when they cross the line. One day you'll be taking care of this personally."

As they walk silently into the woods, a mixture of fear and anticipation steals words from both the kids; they follow silently their parents who are dragging a wheelbarrow.

When a wheel bumps on a rock, they catch a glimpse of what's inside, covered by a canvas.

Eyes. A pair of opened, terrified, lifeless eyes, peeping at them.

It's not an animal that their parents are carrying. It's a person. _The people from the Outside_, they both silently realize holding each other's hands even tighter.

Their father looks back at them and starts explaining quietly, turning his head to the road again, "When the people form the Outside trespass, you have to beg the Gods for forgiveness and show them your loyalty. To do so you will need two people, a man and a woman…"

The two kids swallow hard, as their father goes on explaining the details of the sacrifice.

* * *

><p>Emily sighs, looking at the lush, yet troubled landscape in front of her. Acres and acres of untouched woods; a number of unexplained deaths, leaving a trace at least forty years old, and no tangible clues to profile the unsub. It's the third day the team is stuck in a little town in the middle of nowhere, where six days ago the bodies of two hikers, a man and a woman, were found, horribly beaten to death and mutilated. Two days after they got there, another couple was found, same MO, again a man and a woman.<p>

"Any thought you want to share?" Rossi approaches Prentiss with a tired smile.

"Nothing useful to the case" she mutters back, raising her head toward the leaden sky, as a fine drizzle starts falling on them.

"I'm open to any sort of topic," he continues, driven more by the need to have some sort of conversation, than by an actual worry about his colleague.

Emily finally turns her gaze to him, "Are you exasperated as much as I am?"

At the horizon a team of searchers led by Morgan, is returning from the woods, as the rest of the team just did. The disappointment on their faces suggests they were not more successful than the others.

"Why?" Rossi carries on, focusing his attention on the tops of the trees merging with the gray sky until the eye can reach, "You're not enjoying this treasure hunting?" he snaps sarcastically. God, how much would he give for a whiskey and a dry change of clothes.

"That's your thing, isn't it?" she carries on tiredly, "you, your gun, your dog, the nature…"

"I thought you appreciated the outdoors too…" he prompts.

"Not when people are dropping dead with a cooling off period of 1 day, after 40 years of silence. And we don't have a profile yet. And the officer in charge has never dealt with anything bigger than a kitten stuck on a tree..." she counters despondently.

Emily pauses a second and then turns to Rossi, now silently inviting her to let out all her frustration.

"I mean, what the hell do we have aside from a pile of deaths that happened 20 years ago, in all cases a man and a woman, all killed with the same MO, and suddenly interrupted just to resurface now?" She raises her hands in defeat.

Morgan climbs up the little hill where the two profilers are standing, just in time to hear Emily's tirade.

"We don't have any preference in terms of age, race, features, social level." The exasperation is now clear in her voice, "It seems the victims were chosen randomly and used as part of a ritualistic murder. And what kind of person can kill for twenty years, then stop, and start again twenty years later?"

"Maybe he just moved somewhere else, and now is back." Morgan offers, standing few meters away, arms folded and sunglasses on, hiding his dejected expression.

"Even so, where are the traces of similar murders in other areas? Garcia ran an extensive search on similar crimes and found nothing." She counters, "And let's say he started killing when he was twenty, this now makes him sixty. How can he abduct and torture two people single handedly?"

"He could have a partner…" Morgan suggests, scrutinizing her with a frown and then exchanging a look with Rossi.

"And they could be held captive until exhaustion. The coroner reported signs of dehydration and starvation on the bodies" Rossi adds.

"He kills random people, at irregular intervals. When he was active the first time, there were in all 20 victims, which means ten killings. The only fixed element is the MO." She numbers on her fingers the list of all the information gathered so far. Information that they have processed over and over again.

"We've been over this at least a dozen time already, Prentiss," Morgan points out, taking a few nervous steps and gazing at the searchers' defeated expressions.

"But we never asked why?" Emily reinforces; more because she's desperate to find a viable lead than because she believes this path is promising.

"What do you mean?" Hotch asks, catching up with them. The sheriff, Reid and JJ are following.

"This is not the pattern of an unsub hunting his prey. It seems more like he's hiding and when someone invades his space, he attacks them…"

"Then why the pairing man and woman?" Rossi asks.

"He seems to follow a pagan ritual, the sexual component could be part of it" Morgan advances, the chance of a new lead giving him a bit of hope.

"This is a theory that we could verify if we had a precise location of the abductions" Hotch counters.

"Sheriff, some of the previous victims were hikers." Reid has an idea, "If you had the itinerary that the victims planned to follow, we could find some common tracks they walked and locate the abductions along their itinerary. Maybe we could find a pattern" his enthusiasm floats in the air with no response from the officer, who seems lost in other thoughts.

'Sheriff?" Hotch prompts impatiently. He's exhausted, as well as his team. The investigation has been handled haphazardly, and the BAU was called in to be welcomed by the typical hostility of little town's people, not used to asking for help or to share their dirty laundry with suits coming from Washington.

"There's an old story. More of a fairy tale for kids actually…." The sheriff starts, grazing his chin with one hand, "It says that once upon a time these woods were the kingdom of Gods…"

Rossi drops his heads on one side shooting a skeptical gaze to the officer; Hotch's eyes narrow a bit more, his patience wearing off; whereas the rest of the team give each other dumbfounded looks, preparing for a paranormal twist of the case.

The sheriff continues, "When the people from the Outside arrived and started stealing the sacred land, a man and a woman were designated by the divinity to protect the last outpost of the original woods. Their job was to keep away people from the sacred land and offer a man and a woman as a sacrifice to the Gods, in case any outsider trespassed. As reward they could live on God's land"

"And you think somebody is killing these people because he's convinced to follow the Gods' will?" Hotch shifts on his feet, uncomfortably.

"It would fit the temporal pattern…" Reid suggests while the rest of the team shoots surprised looks, "This reprise could be carried on by the children of the first unsubs…And the presence of a team well suits the victimology".

"Reid, are you seriously considering the theory of a fairy tale?" Morgan voices the obvious skepticism of the team.

Reid is about to answer when a sudden commotion at the edge of the woods attracts their attention.

A young woman is running and screaming toward the search teams.

The profilers run down the hill together with the sheriff to understand what's happening. When they arrive, a helpless volunteer is trying her best to calm down the young woman and to understand her mumblings. Half of the volunteers are instead staring at a beautiful young woman wearing a white dress and a red cloak. She must not be more than 25 years old; she has blond, long hair, fair complexion and dark blue eyes. She looks terrified and several scratches on her legs and arms suggest she's been running away from something.

When she turns her eyes to the newly arrived agents, she freezes for a second, then quickly throws herself in Morgan's arms, sobbing desperately.

Emily and JJ exchange a dumbfounded look, while Morgan, as surprised as his colleagues, tries to calm the woman down.

Once the woman stops sobbing and finally releases her hold on Morgan's chest, she looks around disoriented, as if she's seeing other humans for the first time in her life.

"Ma'am?" Morgan, who seems to be the only one she's willing to establish any contact with, questions gently, "can you tell us what happened?"

She sobs again, "I was walking in the woods, when a man came out of nowhere and tried to grab me. Then I ran and ran, until I found you" again eyes on Morgan.

"Can you describe the man who attacked you?" Hotch asks, seemingly unbothered by her preference for the colleague.

"Tall, well built, dark…" then the sobs come in the way again…

"Can you tell us what were you doing in the woods all alone?" Prentiss asks, something about this witness is not convincing her.

The girl looks at her as if she has just posed the most ridiculous question "I was bringing some jam and bread to my grandmother," then she pauses, her face horrified in realization, "Oh my god, she's old and alone. I have to go and make sure she's alright!" she starts crying in despair.

"Ma'am, don't worry" the Sheriff soothes her "I will send one of my men to check personally on her, just give us the address of the house"

"My grandmother is an old woman, she's not at ease with men…" the woman explains in sobs.

"I'll go with him" Emily offers, "What's your name?"

"Sylvia" the woman manages before finding again comfort in Derek's arms.

Emily exchanges a look with Rossi and JJ, while they take a few steps away and leave Morgan dealing with her, "We just need a big scary wolf and we're right into a fairy tale" Emily comments harshly, gaining a chuckle from Rossi.

"She really likes Morgan…" JJ comments, looking back at her colleague.

"Who also incredibly resembles her aggressor…" Emily points out.

"What?" JJ is lost for explanation.

"She described her aggressor as tall, well built and dark; and of all the people around she threw herself in the arms of the one person who resembles most the man she was running away from," Emily explains.

Rossi nods at his colleague's explanation and wonders if the source of her skepticism is just Sylvia's bizarre behavior or if her clear preference for Morgan is bugging her in a different kind of way.

"I get it," victims of assault usually refuse to be touched, especially by men. Go figure by men resembling their attacker" JJ completes the reasoning, gaining Emily's nod.

"Do you think it's wise to go in there alone?" Rossi finally asks.

"I won't be alone… an officer is going to be with me," Prentiss quickly resolves, "and I'm sick and tired of this unsub."

"Be careful" JJ places a hand on her colleague's shoulder.

"You too" Prentiss smiles back briefly.

"Hey Prentiss, sure you wanna go into the woods alone?" Morgan offers while she walks past him.

Emily shoots back a cold look, "I'm not going to be alone," she looks at the rookie who's going to walk with her, "and it's seems your hands are already full anyway…"

Morgan looks back at Sylvia, now in the hands of the paramedics and looking at him with Bambi eyes.

"Do you think she's faking it?" he asks Emily.

"I don't know… but definitely there's something off about her. Maybe you can make her talk, she likes you," she suggests bitterly and gets in reward a death glare from Morgan.

"Seriously? Do you think I would flirt with her?" he counters resentfully.

"No!" Emily gives him an abashed look, "I'm just saying that she seems to prefer you and it's more likely to understand the truth if we play her game."

Morgan searches her big brown eyes for a moment, then he gives up frowning," Alright, Stay safe" is the last thing he tells her, before he walks back to Sylvia.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Red Riding Hood

**Author**: Sara Nublas

**Characters**: Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, all team involved

**Rating**: T

**Warning**: violence and creepy scenes

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Criminal Minds, its characters or the tale of Little Red Riding Hood

**A/N**: Many people to thank for this story: withouttracelover996 for the prompt, Nix1978 for patiently listening to my ideas, freddlerabbit for the beta reading

_Thanks a lot for the reviews! Please keep them coming!_

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><p>"So, did you grow up here?" Emily tries conversation in an attempt to relax the young and pretty tense agent. The last thing she needs is a terrified cop with an easy finger in the middle of nowhere.<p>

"Ehm.. yes" he swallows, turning around jumpily at each single noise the woods produce.

"What's your name?"

"Peter, Peter Madison…" the agent seems determined to keep a monosyllabic dialogue, too busy in hunting monsters.

Emily rolls her eyes and mumbles "Alrighty…", giving up on the rookie.

Peter Madison looks toward Emily, who is seemingly unbothered by the fact of being alone in a deserted forest with a spooky aggressor walking around. "You must think I'm a stupid rookie, do you?" he manages in the end.

"No, I don't…" she answers back, with her soft, soothing voice, that always manages to comfort everybody, "I think it's not easy to deal with this kind of crime, and to open the doors to perfect strangers. But we are here to help, not to belittle you."

"I know. It's just..." he pauses for a moment, uncertain whether to continue, "the legends the sheriff told you. They can seem stupid folklore to you, but we grew up with them; they're in our culture, in our blood. I know I'll tell them to my kids one day."

"Do you have any?" Prentiss tries to make him feel at ease.

"A girl, Celeste, she's two years old. But we want many…" he smiles full of pride.

Emily smiles back. Sometimes, realizing that there are people who actually have a life outside of their job, and a family that doesn't overlap with the colleagues entourage, still manages to mesmerize her.

"Do you have any kids?" Peter asks, now that the anxiety in his voice seems less heavy.

"No," she avoids eye contacts and surveys the branches of the trees, slowly swinging and swallowing a good portion of sky.

"Married? Divorced? Engaged?" He tries, receiving a headshake at every attempt. "Wow, then it is true…" he comments.

"What?"

"The rumor that FBI folks are married to their job, and either they are divorced, either turn into lone wolves, ending up…" he bites his tongue leaving the sentence hanging.

"Lone wolves ending up how?" She prods him, "having a nervous breakdown? Becoming the killers they devoted their lives to hunt down?" she tries to guess the options.

"Sleeping with their colleagues…" Peter mumbles embarrassed.

Emily looks at him intensely, and if it wasn't for the fact that the unsub might be in the surroundings and hear them, she would burst out laughing. "You know what? I think you've been watching too many soap operas." she chuckles.

"I know. I'm sorry, agent. It's that when I get anxious my blood sugars raise and I tend to say stupid things," he admits apologetically, "I've noticed that you and Agent Morgan seem pretty tuned in…"

Emily arches her eyebrows at the rather unconventional suggestion, and turns her head feeling her cheeks blushing. She doesn't know if because of the inappropriate insinuation of the officer or because he hit some sensitive subject she's been dodging.

Then she sobers up, deciding it's time to end the recreational moment and go back to the case.

"Anyway, as to the legend of the people from the Outside… each town has its own legends, but often they're laid on a base of truth or real history. Could you give me some more insight?" she quickly resolves, her professional shield back in place.

"Not much more, I'm sorry. What the sheriff told you is what I know, but there is a man in town, who might help you. He used to live in the woods for a long time, in one of those cults, segregated from the Outside, growing their own food, living from the land, without television… Then one day he came down to town and became a regular person…"

"A regular person…" she echoes with sarcasm.

"What about you? Did you grow up into the mountains as well?" he tries to change subject in order to avoid the silence.

Emily looks back questioningly.

"You seem pretty relaxed and confident in the woods. Not everybody would be at ease here…" Madison explains.

"When I was a kid I used to spend a lot of time with my grandfather in the French Alps. He gave up everything and went to live into the woods, I guess he definitely escapes your definition of regular person…" she explains reluctantly.

Madison bits his lip and rolls his eyes to the sky, cursing himself for the second gaffe. These FBI agents are impossible when it comes to having a friendly conversation, he thinks.

"France, wow… I never left the state" he tries the most neutral observation he can come up with.

Emily glances unenthusiastically at Madison; 'wow' is not exactly the first word that comes to her mind when she thinks back to those times. If only she could make up her mind so easily about those years with her grandfather and encase them into a neat classification… On one side she knows that if she has become an independent, tough woman, as the Prentiss label apparently implies, it's partly because of what she had to endure during those endless, secluded summers. Nonetheless she reckons that during that time her grandfather put her through an awful lot of unnecessary roughness and that maybe she would have learnt the lesson anyway.

Those summers are the reason why she feels comfortable in the outdoors, but also why every time she sees musk on the bark of a tree or she finds herself in a wood after the sunset, she hardly manages the surging panic…

"Ah…Now I envy you. Such an exotic childhood… My wife and I were thinking of taking a trip to Paris, once Celeste has grown up a bit…" he goes on, now unleashed, while Emily lets him talk without listening.

She nervously glances at her phone with no reception and sighs. Now she regrets the moment she felt the need to grab this guy out of his hole of silence and wishes for this day to end soon, while more and more unpleasant memories resurface from a dark corner left untouched for a long time.

"Here it is" she beckons with relief in the direction of a far spot.

* * *

><p>Morgan hands a glass of water to Sylvia, who doesn't miss the chance to grab his arm for comfort.<p>

He frowns at the gesture, remembering his last conversation with Emily. He's not sure what stings more about it, whether the fact that she was probably right about Sylvia hiding something, or the fact that he took it so personally. He knows that Prentiss would never doubt his professionalism or his capacity to distance himself from a person of interest; yet there's something about that conversation which goes on bugging him and he doesn't know what it is exactly. Suddenly he feels the urge to clarify the whole thing with her, and a nagging feeling that this moment won't come soon, starts floating in his mind.

"Your friend doesn't like me," Sylvia interrupts his thread of thoughts.

"What?" he asks, taken aback.

"Your friend, the brunette; she doesn't like me. She's pretty, though." Sylvia smiles, taking a sip of water and keeping her eyes on him.

"Ma'am, I'll have to ask you some questions…" he starts, with a new disturbing thought in the back of his mind.

"Sylvia, please. I don't like Ma'am" she pouts at him.

Morgan takes a deep breath, "Sylvia," he nods seriously, "what's your surname?"

"Parker," she answers, almost questioningly.

Morgan looks towards the glass, aware that on the other side JJ already dialed Garcia and asked her to run the name.

"Ok, Sylvia Parker" he carries on with his soothing voice, "where do you live?"

"In the woods."

Morgan chuckles, "Could you please be less vague?"

"There's a hut in the woods where I grew up with my family," she replies adamantly.

"In the woods… just like that?"

"Well, It's not _just like that_. Those woods are very precious. It's a blessing and an honor to be able to live there," she stresses the words.

Morgan feels annoyed when the connection between Sylvia's story and the legend the sheriff told them before pops up into his mind. He's annoyed; yet he can't help catching the analogy between the two versions and the definitely weird way Sylvia approaches people. So candid and overt, like a child who doesn't have filters; like someone much younger than her age, like someone who's not used to interacting with people and can't distinguish what is appropriate from what is not.

"Do you walk often in the woods on your own?" he asks.

She frowns at him, "Why shouldn't I? This town is less safe than the woods," she simply responds.

"Yes, but people have been found dead in the woods, not in this town," he remarks.

"Maybe they ventured in places where they were not allowed to go…" she offers curtly.

Morgan shifts on his feet and addresses a stern look to the glass, perfectly corresponded to by an equally stern Hotch on the other side.

The unit chief looks briefly at Rossi, standing beside him "Do we have any news from Prentiss?" he asks.

"No, and the more we dig into this story, the less I like it," the older colleague comments, while Hotch tries to call Emily, unsuccessfully.

"Sylvia, tell me about the man who attacked you…" Morgan returns his attention to the interrogation.

"Tall, athletic, a lot like you…" she says distantly.

"Do you remember any particulars? His eye color, what was he wearing, any tattoos, scars…" he pushes.

She arches her mouth in an indifferent grin, "For me, you are all the same." Then her voice becomes gentler, and she smiles "But not you. You have kind eyes."

Morgan ponders on his following question. It feels ridiculous to believe a fairy tale, yet people are dying and this seems to be the only viable lead, "By us, you mean the people from the Outside?"

Sylvia looks at him seriously, and nods.

* * *

><p>"Uh?" Officer Madison asks still smiling at the thought of his daughter.<p>

"The granny's house. It's down there," Prentiss keeps walking toward the house, trying not to be too noisy and looking around.

The house is exactly as Sylvia described it; a small, old wooden house. There are embroidered blinds at the windows and wind chimes on the porch, near the front door; but despite these details the atmosphere is completely still and gruesome.

As they get closer to the hut, it seems that all the noises of the forest have been devoured away. Emily tries to peep through the windows, but the house is dark and there's no movement inside.

The more she thinks, the more her distrust toward Sylvia gets stronger.

And it hurts the thought that Morgan preferred giving a cute stranger the benefit of the doubt, than trusting her instinct. So much for their being _tuned in_, she thinks bitterly.

She puts her resent aside and reaches Madison at the main door, where he's knocking, to no avail.

"The girl said her grandmother was not comfortable with men… let me try" she proposes, trying to be unbiased and to ignore the bad gut feeling that this case is not going to end soon.

She knocks at the door identifying herself. Once, Twice. No answer.

After a pause, Emily gently pushes the door and the handle immediately turns under her hand. They both draw their guns and enter the house in silence.

The main room is completely clear, covered with dust and spider webs.

"For sure Red Riding Hood hasn't paid many visits to her beloved granny lately," Emily bitterly comments when she gets to the bedroom.

Peter catches up with her and moans in disgust when he sees the almost mummified body on the bed; then he runs out of the house fighting a surging retch.

Emily draws her cell phone, to inform the team, and sighs in exasperation at the lack of reception.

She quickly checks the house again, searching for clues on who the woman is and why Sylvia has sent them there.

She has the feeling that this case is a lot darker than they expected, and the absence of any lead annoys her. But her musing is set aside as soon as she realizes that there isn't any noise coming from the outside.

Where is Madison? Why is he not coming back? Why can't she hear him radio contacting the station?

She runs out in a hurry, thinking that the only possible explanation why Sylvia wanted them into the woods, was because she had a plan.

A plan that involved her and Madison.

A man and a woman. Alone.

In the woods.

A knot forms in her throat when she sees the young rookie, lying on the ground, unconscious. She hurries toward him and, before she can even draw her weapon, she hears paces behind her.

In a second it all goes dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Red Riding Hood

**Author**: Sara Nublas

**Characters**: Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, all team involved

**Rating**: T

**Warning**: violence and creepy scenes

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Criminal Minds, its characters or the tale of Little Red Riding Hood

**A/N**: Many people to thank for this story: withouttracelover996 for the prompt, Nix1978 for patiently listening to my ideas, freddlerabbit for the beta reading

_Thanks a lot for all the reviews and alerts! Keep them coming please! :)_

* * *

><p>Dusk is approaching rapidly as the sky turns red and purple, and the outline of the trees gets somewhat menacing.<p>

Hotch stares out of a window at the precinct house, searching the horizon with a searing look, his expression a frown of concern.

"Hotch," JJ recalls his attention, "Garcia looked into everything she could about Sylvia Parker, but nothing of what came out matches with this woman. And by nothing I mean not even a birth certificate."

Hotch turns to her, not surprised by the update. He now regrets sending Prentiss into the woods without more back up; this case is turning into a farce and now one of his agents is potentially missing.

He ponders for an instant and then he walks back to the rest of the team, where Morgan has also joined them.

"Morgan, what did she tell you?" Reid asks, raising his eyes from a pile of documents he's reading.

"Nothing substantial. She talks and behaves as if she hasn't any clue of the real world. She lives out of a fairy tale. But definitely this legend of the people from the Outside is a popular story around here," Morgan answers frustrated and pissed, because in someway he feels like he's being played, "What's going on?" he then asks, hoping for more helpful updates from the rest of the team.

"According to Garcia, that woman doesn't even exist and Prentiss hasn't gotten back yet," Hotch responds coldly.

"What do you mean, she hasn't gotten back yet?" Morgan asks tensely.

"She's not picking up her phone." Hotch explains curtly.

Morgan hisses a curse, his eerie fears being confirmed.

"It could be a problem of reception, these woods are really secluded," Reid comments worriedly, trying to avoid the worst thoughts.

"But it's been over two hours and the house wasn't supposed to be so distant," JJ objects, "Emily would have updated us."

Hotch takes a deep breath, "JJ, why don't you try to talk to the girl? Maybe with a woman she will open up and give us more details," he suggests and immediately the liaison officer takes off, glad to have something to do instead of just waiting for a call from Emily to come through.

"Sheriff," Hotch then recalls the officer's attention.

The man trots toward the profiler with a lost expression, and despite knowing he's doing his best to cope with a situation out of his league, Hotch reckons he's running out of patience.

"Sheriff, have you heard anything from the officer you sent in the woods with my agent?" He strives to keep his calm.

"No, not yet." The man widens his eyes, mentally reviewing his tasks' list and feeling overwhelmed.

"Would you please try to contact him?" Hotch lowers his voice and for some reason his tone comes out even more threatening.

Sheriff Cormack has proudly been responsible for 12,000 heads over the last thirty years. He never failed the expectations of his citizens; he never faced anything he couldn't cope with, and for sure he has never dealt with anything like this. He now regrets the boring days in which he had to deal with occasional shoplifting and brawls at the tavern on Friday nights. This case is like a boulder pressing on his chest, devouring him from the inside and not doing any good service to his ulcer.

Zealously he grabs the radio and starts calling agent Madison, mortified for not having thought about that before. A mix of exhaustion, despair and panic turns his face into a wax mask, as he doesn't get any answer. He waves haphazardly at the profilers' sere expressions, searching for words and not finding a suitable apology "I'll put a search party together!" he offers.

/

When JJ enters the interrogation room, Sylvia welcomes her with a disappointed and almost resentful look.

"Where's Derek?" she immediately asks as the liaison officer offers her a glass of water.

JJ looks back surprised and smiles friendly, trying to ignore Sylvia's hostility, "Special Agent Morgan is busy right now. But I thought we could talk a little bit more…" she tests the waters.

"What do you want to talk about?" Sylvia asks annoyed.

The fact that the young woman hasn't asked even once about her grandmother doesn't escape JJ's attention. Even though her behavior appeared definitely unwonted since the beginning, JJ is stunned by the sudden change in her attitude; sweet and harmless one moment, haughty and uncooperative the moment after. Suddenly Emily's suspicions about Sylvia come back to her mind and as they do, JJ doesn't see anymore a frightened and disoriented girl, but an extremely determined and ruthless woman, who has a precise plan and is ready to do anything to enforce it.

"Why doesn't he want to talk to me?" Sylvia suddenly breaks the silence with a pout.

"Who doesn't want to talk to you?" JJ asks dumbfounded.

"Derek," Sylvia explains, staring at the glass of water in her hands, "He sent you back in here in his place. Did I do something wrong?"

JJ shifts on the chair uncomfortably, she doesn't know if it's the delusion Sylvia is nurturing or the prospect of what else is brewing in her twisted mind that unsettles her most.

JJ is not a profiler, but she has spent enough time with the team to detect some patterns and learn some tricks. Enough to know that, despite some victims of systematic sexual abuse tending to offers themselves to any man they encounter, this doesn't usually manifest immediately after the aggression. Enough to know that the way Sylvia fantasizes about Morgan is symptomatic of a rooted misconception of the relationship with the opposite sex. Enough to listen to her instinct, right now screaming at her that whatever plan Sylvia has got in mind, she definitely is not a victim.

/

"We don't have that kind of time and we need qualified agents," Hotch responds brusquely to the Sheriff's offer, as he realizes it's time he takes over the lead of the case. "We have two officers potentially in the hands of a serial killer. We have to know what to search for."

"Then let's go!" the Sheriff raises his voice almost in despair.

"We can't just start running through the woods blindly!" Hotch turns at him and for a moment the rest of the team freezes, barely recalling the unit chief loosing his temper.

"These woods are extensive, there's one unsub, maybe more, who is clearly one step ahead of us." Morgan jumps in, trying to keep his calm and to soothe the sheriff's anxiety "if we go out right now, we will lose time and probably will be back empty handed."

"So we wait and hope nothing happened to my officer and your agent?" Cormack asks, despair turning into rage.

"No, we work out a profile. We put together all we've got so to understand what this unsub wants and what's his next move," Derek explains, "Agent Prentiss is one of the most capable profilers I know and she's able to handle herself in stressful situations," he concludes then, needing to say it out loud, needing to convince himself about it, even more than the others.

Rossi doesn't fail to notice Morgan's tension; again he can't help thinking that there's an awful lot of unspoken words and unfinished business between Derek and Emily, so thick and complex that it will explode in their face unless they deal with it. But obviously this is not the most appropriate moment to focus on personal relationships within the team. Right now the priority is to get Emily and officer Madison back safe and stop this killer, "I will go and see how's JJ doing," he finally resolves and turns on his heels as he receives a nod of approval from Hotch.

/

"Sylvia, we are trying to catch the man who assaulted you," JJ tries to play along with the young woman, "Derek is working on that too…That's why he's not here." She has to make an active effort to soothe the anxiety in her chest.

At every blink, at every word Sylvia says, she feels like she's missing a whole world of clues and nuances that a real profiler would get. That Emily would get. Instead she's here, trying to get some information from a possibly mentally unstable woman, while one of her friends is out in the dark with a serial killer on the loose.

Sylvia seems reassured by JJ's words and a timid smile surfaces on her lips, "I like him…" she admits with a half giggle, "He's pretty. And I'm pretty too…"

This time JJ's staggered expression is noticed and Sylvia immediately frowns, "You think I'm not pretty enough for him?" she asks almost accusingly, "Or is it because of the agent who went into the woods?" Sylvia urges pressingly.

"Why do you think Agent Prentiss has something to do with your _relationship_ with Agent Morgan?" JJ asks, while a creepy thought starts to morph in her mind.

"Well, obviously she's jealous!" Sylvia turns brusquely, "She wants him and she knows that she can't have him."

"Is this the reason why you asked that a woman would go into the woods to check on your grandmother?" JJ asks, her voice getting lower, "To have Agent Prentiss out of the way?"

"It wouldn't make a difference if she was here…" Sylvia comments boldly, "he was holding me, not her. He chose me!"

"Sylvia, where's Emily?" JJ's tone has become sharper and more demanding now, in her eyes fearless determination to get her friend back home.

"She's got a handful right now," Sylvia smiles maliciously, settling on the back of the chair and finally taking a sip of water.

JJ stares at Sylvia, tempted by the sudden impulse of throwing her against a wall and punching her until she gives up the truth. Instead she gets up and darts out of the room; she's relieved when she finds Rossi out, waiting for her.

"Did you get it?" she asks, fighting a surging sob.

Rossi stares at her with his usual unruffled expression, then he puts a hand on her shoulder and reassures her "You did good, JJ. Very good."

"I'm not a profiler, I… I can't do this…I don't get all the signals and hints that you or Emily would gather from her behavior," she objects.

"JJ, you have great instincts. And inside there, you were able to push some buttons that neither I or Morgan or any other team member would have been able to… And this transcends your job qualifications."

JJ nods, a bit reassured and takes a deep breath.

"Now, I want you to come with me and tell the team what's your feeling about this woman. We have a profile to deliver."

* * *

><p>Emily wakes up on the cold floor of a dark room. It must be a cellar or a basement, she judges as she rolls on her back and notices few shards of light filtering through the wooden planking over her head.<p>

Her hand softly probes the bump on the back of her head and she twitches in pain as she touches the swollen part. She feels drowsy and weak, her mouth is dry and an acute pain at her left arm is bothering her. There's an irony smell in the room and she soon realizes that it comes from her, a bandage has been applied over a cut on the inner part of her forearm. She shifts the bandage and follows with her finger the rims of the cut. It's an approximately five centimeters long, neat, cut, caused probably by a knife. Somebody cut her and took her blood while she was unconscious.

She takes a deep breath and she tries to make order in the hazy confusion of her thoughts, sorting what is a priority from what is not, what is fact and what is emotion.

As the eyes get accustomed to the darkness, she starts making out the profile and the shapes of the room she's kept in. It's definitely a basement, and the door leading to the upper level is locked from the outside; that's why she's not tied, it would be a useless measure since she can't get out anyway.

The walls are made of concrete, and against one wall there's an entire collection of tools. Knives, axes, saws, hammers, scissors, and then a metal bed with cuffs chained to the borders. She swallows, realizing that the cut on her arm is just the beginning of what she's going to face.

She paces again around the room, counting her steps and focusing on staying calm. Aside from the various multi-legged creatures she has glimpsed crawling on the floors and the walls, she's the only guest; which makes her wonder what happened to Madison. She can't stop thinking to him and his family, praying that Celeste still has a father and that he will be able to take his wife to France one day.

Her musing is suddenly interrupted by the noise of steps over her head. Two different sets of feet, two different voices, both males.

"When can we bring her back?" a younger voice inquires.

"When it's time. Don't be impatient. What did I teach you?" the older voice reproaches dryly.

"When you get impatient you get sloppy," the younger repeats submissively.

"They're getting closer to us, and we can't afford to get this one wrong. So we'll do what we need to do to."

"Yes, father." The way the younger says the words, throws Emily on the memory lane, as she remembers of herself as a terrified child, staring at a maze of trees and struggling to keep the pace with her grandfather. She shivers as she fights back that memory.

"So, stop thinking about your sister. She'll be fine," the older voice orders.

"What if she's not? What if they fill her with lies as they did with Mother? What if that cop gets to her?" the younger can't help letting out his fears.

"She won't. And they will be too busy searching for their colleague, to think about Sylvia," the older quickly closes the subject, "Now go down and check on her."

Emily can't help a grimace of victory. She knew it. She knew that Sylvia was lying and that she's not a jealous paranoid. Her enthusiasm, though, is soon curbed by the noise of the trap door being unlocked. As she squints at the light coming through and hears the steps approaching, she takes a step back into a dark corner and is overwhelmed by the memory of his grandfather's words, "A day will come when you have to face someone bigger and tougher than you. When it happens, never back down. Grow harder, grow stronger."

Those words resound in Emily's mind and her breath becomes faster and shallow; she remembers how helpless and scared she felt back then, and as she swears she's never going to let fear overwhelm her, she finally meets one of her captors.

* * *

><p>"Okay, what we've got so far?" Hotch starts making the point of the situation.<p>

"A string of homicides going on for 40 years, but not happening regularly," Reid starts.

"Which supports the theory of the ritual," Hotch continues.

"And of the family business, or at least of a team," Morgan reprises, "definitely only one person cannot put up all this alone."

"What do we have in terms of timing and geography of the abductions?" Hotch asks again.

This time it's Garcia's voice coming through the loudspeaker, "Sir, I cross-referenced all the abductions dates with the news," this time her voice is not characterized by the usual chirp, it's low and trembling, as if she's doing her best to keep the tears from falling.

"What did you find babygirl?" Derek asks softly.

Garcia takes a deep sigh and then starts, "Between the 1970's and the 90's this area was in full economic boom. The town was expanding and the timber industry was flourishing. The extensive amounts of untouched woods became also a popular attraction for tourists and hikers seeking a refuge from crowded beaches and cities," she explains, fumbling through the pages of the different newspaper articles she has on her screen.

"It's true." the sheriff confirms, "The problem started when the demand for timber increased. The logging became more intensive and involved deeper areas in the woods. We had a lot of protests and then the killings started. Every time the logging would involve a new sector, two people would disappear."

"Protests?" Morgan pressures keeping his temper at guard, "and you didn't think it was relevant to inform us about this before?"

"We questioned all the people involved," the sheriff defends, "they were all clean, and then they got what they wanted. The government suspended the logging in the area and declared it a national park, killing the economy. So we abandoned that lead…"

"Maybe your killers were not among the protesters, but definitely the timing between the invasions of the woods and the abductions is not casual and might be the unsub motive," Hoctch explains.

"Is there any foundation to these legends about the people from the Outside?" Reid asks.

"Ehm, there was a community of hippies, living in secluded area of the forest, but they're long gone by now…" the Sheriff answers, "except one of them. He lives in town now and he works as a gardener. But I'm sure he's your man."

"Anyway I'd like to talk to him." Hotch reinforces and then exchanges a glance with Morgan who is nervously pacing back and forth.

The Unit Chief is about to say something when JJ and Rossi join the party.

"What?" Hotch asks, seeing JJ's grave expression.

"Turns out our victim is not a shy damsel as we thought in the beginning," Rossi comments, then he motions to JJ to carry on.

"When she speaks about Morgan, she refers to him as if he was her Prince Charming. In an almost childish way, like you would expect from an inexperienced teenager," the liaison officer starts, "but then she turns into a pathologically obsessed woman, claiming he's hers. She seemed so concerned about her grandmother when we found her, but since then she hasn't asked about her once. And when I asked her about Emily, she told me she was intruding between her and Derek and that 'she's got a handful right now'. "

"Do you think she purposely sent Emily into a trap?" Reid asks.

"Definitely she's hiding something," she confirms.

"But she's not the brain," Rossi jumps in, "her ways are truly naïve and when she plays the tough girl, she seems doing it out of some brainwashing she received."

"You think she's been used as a bait to distract us." Hotch states.

"I think she's been told exactly what to do and that whoever told her has a precise plan." Rossi confirms.

"Then they've been watching us for a while. They knew our team dynamic and they knew how to strike," Morgan angrily comments.

"What do you mean?" Reid asks.

"Think about it. If Sylvia hadn't cornered me, I would have gone into the woods with Emily…"

"And they needed to rule out someone who could have fought against them," JJ finishes his sentence.

The Sheriff looks at the profilers, slightly confused and trying to catch up with all their deductions, but before he can say something, Hotch and Morgan head with fast strides toward the interrogation room.

"Where is my agent?" Hotch demands entering the interrogation room and cutting to the chase.

"You'll never find her," Sylvia challenges him, and then gives Morgan a mischievous, victorious grimace. "I won" she chants, mocking the group of profilers staring at her, "I knew if I played the part of the damsel in distress you would have believed me," then she turns specifically to Morgan "It was so easy to get your attention and to fool you. Your friend instead, she didn't trust me since the beginning. But now it doesn't count anymore, it's too late for her."

"Where is she?" Morgan growls back, and for a moment Sylvia squints, surprised.

"You care about her…" she comments, as if it was an upsetting discovery.

"I'm not going to repeat it again," Morgan takes a step closer and he swears he's going to forget his mother's teachings about not laying a hand on a woman, if he doesn't get the answer immediately.

"Exactly where I sent her, at the cottage. Even though I doubt you'll find her by now," she now looks at him seriously.

Both of them are determined in getting what they want to achieve, both of them are ready to go to any extent to get to the aim.

"Who has her?" Rossi intervenes, breaking the increasing tension between Morgan and Sylvia.

She shakes her head, "You don't get it. We've grown up in these woods, we have protected them and in change we get protection from the Gods. You started this when you crossed the lines, now you have to stand the consequences." she defends, avoiding the answer.

"You've been watching us, haven't you?" Reid asks, "Why Emily? Why choosing her?"

"E-mi-ly.." she toys with the name, "your friend is special, that's why we chose her."

"Why is she so special?" Reid continues.

"You want to know what I see when I look at her?" she asks challenging, and receives a nod from the young profiler.

"She's tough and independent, but there's something dark and deep inside her. Something torments her, but she keeps it hidden, from all of you." Then she shifts her gaze to Morgan, "She's close up, but when she's with you, she's less tense and she privileges standing at your side more than any other person on your team. She's confident in the woods, but when it gets dark, she's more jumpy and her breath is shallower."

Morgan clenches his fists and takes a step forward, but JJ stops him, a hand lightly posed on his shoulder.

Then all of a sudden Sylvia's attitude changes again. Her arrogance replaced by serious affliction and dejection, "She likes it when you ask her if she's okay, but she's careful not to show how much she appreciates your company. At least as much as you try to hide how much you care for her. I would die to have something like this."

Derek is too tense to respond in anyway, so JJ tries another time to breach Sylvia's walls, "Sylvia, where is she?"

Sylvia finally holds her gaze, now devoid of any emotion and she lightly shrugs, "you'll never find her alive."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Red Riding Hood

**Author**: Sara Nublas

**Characters**: Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, all team involved

**Rating**: T

**Warning**: violence and creepy scenes

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Criminal Minds, its characters or the tale of Little Red Riding Hood

**A/N**: Many people to thank for this story: withouttracelover996 for the prompt, Nix1978 for patiently listening to my ideas, freddlerabbit for the beta reading

_Thanks a lot for reading and reviewing! It means to me more than I can possibly express in words! Keep those comments coming :)_

* * *

><p>When Emily sees the young man in his thirties, walking down the stairs and searching the darkness, her first thought is that what's on his face is pure fear. Plastered on her captor's face, there's the same look she would expect from a child afraid of the dark, who ventures into a forbidden room in the middle of the night. The second thought is that this man is the exact copy of Sylvia, the exact same eyes, showing an inexplicable and unsettling mixture of malice, apprehension and ingenuity.<p>

"My name is Kyle," he says abruptly, almost in a rush, paying attention to stand within the cone of light coming from the upper level.

"I'm Emily," she responds softly. She has the feeling that his father wasn't big in showing love, and that Kyle developed a strong bond with Sylvia, so strong that he must feel overwhelmed without her. "I met your sister, Sylvia…" she adds.

Kyle raises his head and looks at her, gaping, not even knowing what question to ask first.

"I heard you before, talking to your father. And when I saw your eyes I realized she must be your sister," she explains.

Kyle nods uncomfortably, looking nervously at the upper level, "Is she fine?" he finally asks, looking at Emily with suspicion.

"Yes, the police are taking care of her and probably they are questioning her right now. They must be worried because officer Madison and I haven't called in yet…" she tries, "Madison is the officer who was with me in the woods… Is he fine?"

Kyle looks at her, not knowing what to do with the turmoil of emotions struggling in his mind. He's always been told that the people from the Outside are greedy, selfish and ruthless; that they don't care about each other, they don't care for anyone but themselves. Instead this woman, not only is kind to him after being beaten and abducted, but also cares about the health of her colleague.

Kyle is about to answer, when he hears the sound of approaching footsteps, and looks anxiously toward the upper level.

He starts climbing the stairs haphazardly, without looking back at Emily.

"Wait, I've got questions!" she begs him, "I can tell you more about your sister…" she offers with a note of distress in her voice.

Kyle freezes for a second, and looks at her with sorrow, "I'll be back," he promises, before closing the trap door again and leaving her alone, in darkness.

Why didn't they take Madison? Why did they take her blood? What's the story with this family? She would like to ask Kyle these and many other questions, instead she's left alone and helpless. She replays in her mind Kyle's words and behavior over and over again and little by little the twisted dynamic of this family starts getting clearer. She hopes she can use her information on Sylvia as leverage to get out of there before the father gets to her, otherwise there's no hope for her to get out of this situation alive.

* * *

><p>It's still dark when the team and the search party that has been organized, gear up and get finally ready to go. Morgan is already in the driver's seat of the SUV, simmering and glancing around nervously like a caged animal; and when Rossi enters the passenger seat, he doesn't need anything but a look to start the engine.<p>

Darkness and the bumpy road slow down the drive, and getting to the point where they parted from Emily earlier in the day seems like an endless agony; Morgan is silently focusing on the road, clenching his fingers around the steering wheel, whereas Rossi doesn't say a word and occasionally casts some glances at his colleague.

Only when they get off the car and spread in groups of two to search the area, the older profiler lets out what's been going on in his mind, "Do you want to talk about what happened back at the station?" he offers to Morgan.

"What do you mean?" Morgan asks, without stopping searching the woods with his gaze.

"What Sylvia told about you and Emily; that you deeply care about each other, but refrain from admitting it."

Morgan casts a death glare to Rossi. "Do we really want to have this conversation right here and right now?"

"I was just offering, in case you wanted to let it out…" the senior agent explains quietly, totally unbothered by Morgan's reaction.

"That woman is delusional, she talks out of a fantasy," Morgan briefly ends the conversation.

"Okay, if you say so… Today I noticed some tension going on between you and Emily," he drops casually, "I thought you might have wanted to talk about that."

Derek halts suddenly, his arms at his sides. He stares at an invisible spot right in front of him and then finally looks at the older man. "She told me she didn't trust Sylvia, I took it personally as if she was questioning my judgment. So I scoffed. And now she's missing," he responds, guilt and exhaustion emanating from each single word.

"Derek, you know that things would have gone the same way even if you were there, right?" Rossi searches his gaze, while Morgan has returned to explore the dark, "they planned this thoroughly."

"Rossi, I know. Should this make me feel better?" he snaps back.

"No," Rossi goes on calmly, setting his gaze on a distant point, "but we are all partly responsible for letting her go into the woods without more back up, and we are all worried. You, though, are awfully tormented…"

"So, what are you implying? That I'm involved? That I care? That I love having her around?" Morgan hisses out angrily; he really doesn't know where Rossi is heading, but he doesn't like being profiled.

"We're here." Rossi responds calmly, beckoning at the hut shaping up in the distance, through the morning haze.

Derek swallows, he opens his mouth to say something, but Rossi nods at him that they are fine and heads toward the hut. His doubts about what's going on between Morgan and Emily are now resolved and the focus back again on the case.

Half an hour later, Derek leaves the house with a dejected look, and catches up with the rest of the team.

"There are no traces of vehicles, wheels or animals," Rossi reports, "so either they were forced to follow the unsub, either their attackers knocked them unconscious and carried them."

"The house is clear, aside from grandma's long dead body, there are no clues as to who she is or if Prentiss and officer Madison were here," Morgan adds bitterly, "if only I went with her…"

"Derek, don't go there" Hotch halts him, knowing his guilt, "We made that decision because it seemed the most reasonable choice at the moment. We'll find them."

"How?" Derek asks back despondently, "that girl is right. The woods are extensive and we don't stand any chance against someone who grew up in here."

Hotch is about to answer, when their attention is recalled by a police officer, a few meters away from them.

* * *

><p>"Let me try, father, you know I can do that" Emily's attention is caught again once she hears footsteps and voices getting closer. By now she recognizes Kyle, lighter and slightly dragging his feet, by his father's slow heavy paces. The distress in Kyle's voice is evident, and the response he gets from his father is curt and annoyed.<p>

"I said no. You're going to do what I tell you to do. And you're going to stop whining," he cut his son's request.

"But we don't have much time, you said it too! And Sylvia staying among them is not good. What if something happens to her? What if they take her as they did with mom?"

"Don't mention your mother!" the father suddenly snaps, his paces halting and the entire room falling into silence after his words.

For a minute nothing moves; even Emily holds her breath. Eventually the older man resolves to speak and closes the argument "You have to learn from your sister to follow my orders and stop questioning the rules. I said that we will act when it's the right moment and that's what we'll do."

There's no answer from Kyle this time. His father's steps approach the main door and before leaving the house he reminds him of his last task, "Bring her some water."

When Kyle opens the trap door his face is a mask of hurt. He dodges Emily's gaze and after handing her a bottle of water he takes a step back and stares at her silently. As he finally gathers the courage to let out the question that has been bugging him, his voice is almost a whisper, "That agent, your friend, is he treating Sylvia respectfully?"

Emily needs to re-elaborate the question in her mind before answering, "You mean Agent Morgan?" she asks confused.

"I mean the Agent that Sylvia had to seduce," Kyle explains with despise in his voice, "I mean the Agent who's always looking at you."

Emily rolls her eyes, thinking that she had enough profiling about her relationship with Morgan for the day, and then answers, "Morgan would never hurt or take advantage of anybody. As long as she is with the police and my colleagues, Sylvia is safe."

"Nobody is safe Outside. You brainwash people. You make them believe lies and you take them away," he growls back at her.

"Are you worried that your sister might not come back?" Emily tries to get him talking.

"She's the strongest. She promised she would be back, but who knows what that impostor is doing to her?" his eyes are filled with contempt, fear and tears; for a second Emily wonders if the person she's speaking to is really an adult man or a scared child, who just lost his whole family.

"I can help you to get her back," she offers and he suddenly looks at her with such an intensity, "if you help me…"

"How?" he asks sobering up and taking a step back.

"Let me out of here, and once I'm back I'll let Sylvia come back to you…" Emily leans a bit toward him, searching his gaze.

Kyle stops, standing still, his face half in the dim, half under a shard of light seeping from the cracks in the wooden planking. Emily opens her mouth to defend her cause again, almost certain she can convince him now, when suddenly she stops.

Kyle's scared and doubtful expression has disappeared, and has been replaced by a resolution and a malice that she's familiar with. She's already caught glimpses of it in Sylvia's eyes earlier that day, while she was finding her way into Morgan's arms, while she was playing the part of the victim, fooling everyone, her mind secretly focused on her final goal.

Kyle looks down at her, there's coldness in his stare and his words sound ruthless, "Yes, you can help me," he murmurs, more to himself than to Emily, "I will prove him that I am as good as him and at that point he will have to let me take her back…" he goes on with his reasoning. Then he heads confidently to the opposite corner of the room; the corner Emily has been willingly avoiding looking at, the corner where the previous victims likely exhaled their last breaths in fear and indescribable pain, the corner that is waiting for her too.

He takes a dark object, seemingly a stick. Only when he gets closer she understands what it is. Her grandfather used it for the cattle occasionally, but only when it was strictly necessary. As rough as he was, he always had a painful expression every time he was pressing the shock hand and let 5000 volts run through the animal's body.

Emily at that time was never able to look at that, at the last second she would move her gaze, close her eyes and lay her hands on her ears. This time though there's no room for this kind of reaction. She doesn't have the luxury of dodging the full experience, of witnessing the effects of a cattle prod. She just pleads with him with wide eyes and she can barely move as he presses the shock end to her chest. It's like a mystic force decided to turn her inside out; then a painful darkness, followed by a numb, nauseous haze, follows.

* * *

><p>They hurry up toward what attracted the policeman attention and find Officer Madison, lying unconscious on the ground, half of his body covered with leaves and a pool of blood spreading at the base of his neck.<p>

"He's still alive," one of the officers declares worriedly, feeling his feeble pulse while the sheriff calls for an ambulance.

Cormack barely holds his tears as the paramedics carry Madison away on a stretcher; he looks desperately at Hotch, who lost the nervous and impatient demeanor of the previous hours, "All this time. All this time and I've never lost a man, never had to ask for help. And then all of a sudden a bomb blows in my face…" he comments in defeat while walking up to the profilers.

"Officer Madison is in critical conditions but he's not dead," Reid begins, "and the reason why we're here is to help and to find this unsub."

"So what does this mean for your agent?" Cormack asks, trying to get back his lucidity.

The profilers exchange grave looks, while they explore all the possible consequences that this last gruesome discovery implies; then Hotch speaks, "If the unsub got Prentiss but not Madison, it means they still need a man to perform the ritual and this could buy Emily sometime…"

"Or they could have already found another man, or freaked out, feeling we're closing around and have decided to kill her right there and then," Morgan bitterly concludes.

"So what to we do? We search the area for a second body?" Cormack asks dejected.

The profilers all give a reluctant nod. Feeling this might be one of the hardest cases they've been through.

_You will never find her alive._ Sylvia's words resound in Derek's head as he feels a spasm of desperation and anger surging at the pit of his stomach. He looks around searching for a cue, any evidence, anything that can light his hope. It's in that moment that he sees him.

A young man in his thirties is staring at him from behind the 's still dark and haze still envelopes all the shapes, giving them a blurry outline, but Morgan is sure the guy is smiling at them. "Guys," he pats Hotch's shoulder to recall his attention, and as the profilers look in the direction he pointed, the man turns on his heels and runs away.

Morgan starts immediately chasing the guy, followed by the rest of the team and the police officers. He hears Hotch calling after him, but his mind is already set on the priority of stopping this guy and finding Emily. He moves as fast as he can, dodging the low branches of the trees becoming closer and closer to each other. The bed of dead needles and leaves on the ground provides a slippery surface to his steps, but it doesn't seem to hinder the young man's run. For a moment Derek is convinced he's lost him, the trees look all the same, it's almost impossible to keep track of his position in this maze and he can't hear a sound.

All of a sudden the forest opens up and Morgan debouches in a clearing. There, in a far corner he can see the guy standing and staring at him, his expression relaxed and calm. He's holding a knife in his right hand, while the left is extended laterally, holding something behind a tree, Morgan doesn't have a clear vision of what is it.

Derek wonders what's the game this guy's playing, standing defiantly few feet away from an FBI agent, with just a knife in his hands. They stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, Derek in a frown, the guy relaxed, almost bold.

"Alright kid," Derek finally starts, "end of the game. You drop the knife and walk toward me, nice and easy," he motions him taking a step further, gun drawn.

"I don't think so," the guy simply answers, an arrogant smile on his face.

"Kid, I'm not going to repeat it. Drop the knife and put your hands where I can see them," Derek warns, keeping his calm.

"You don't get it, don't you?" the guy continues, the sparkle Derek sees in those blue eyes is exactly the same he saw few hours before, while he was talking to Sylvia, "You are the intruder here. You don't get to dictate any rule."

"I might be the intruder for you, but I'm also an FBI agent with a gun. And you are a suspect, armed and resisting arrest. So, who do you think has got more to lose?"

The guy chuckles and finally moves what he's been hiding from Derek's sight.

The profiler can't help frowning in pain as he sees his colleague held by the shoulder, half unconscious. She doesn't seem hurt, aside for a bandage around her forearm; but they must have shocked or drugged her, because she can barely keep her eyes open and she doesn't react when he makes eye contact with her.

Kyle is fast in wrapping his arm around her chest and pointing his knife at her throat, "So," he adds triumphantly, "Who do you think has got more to lose, agent Morgan?"

Morgan stares at the unsub with utter determination; trying not to lose his temper and just blow a bullet into the guy's head, trying not to focus on Emily's clouded eyes, one the bloody bandage wrapped around her arm, and on her unresponsive body. The man is holding her as a lifeless puppet, and Morgan can't help feeling a surge of pain, comparing her helplessness, with the strong, independent agent he's used working with. He can't help thinking he could have avoided this, had he listened to her.

"It's simple" Kyle carries on boldly, "either you drop your gun, either I slash her throat."

"And then what?" Morgan doesn't flinch, his gun still on Kyle.

Kyle is taken aback by the agent's reaction, and looks back at him, speechless.

"Let's say I drop my gun, then what's your plan?" Morgan carries on, "you think you can knock me out?

"I think I can kill your friend!" Kyle reinforces, holding the knife closer to Emily's throat.

"You think, but you won't…" Derek says the words carefully, soothingly, "Because you need a man and a woman to perform the ritual."

Kyle gapes, and for a moment Morgan thinks he managed to talk him out of his plan. It's just one second too late that he realizes that the guy's gaze is not pointed at him, but at his shoulders. When he turns, it's already too late. All he can see is the face of a man approaching him and then the jolt of a cattle prodder driving him unconscious.

Emily can make out only blurry details, her limbs weak and numb, her mind fuzzy.

During all the time that Kyle holds her, she's not sure if Morgan is really standing few meters away from her or if it is a product of her fantasy. But when she sees him lying unconscious on the ground, she prays this is just another nightmare.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Red Riding Hood

**Author**: Sara Nublas

**Characters**: Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, all team involved

**Rating**: T

**Warning**: violence and creepy scenes

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Criminal Minds, its characters or the tale of Little Red Riding Hood

**A/N**: Many people to thank for this story: withouttracelover996 for the prompt, Nix1978 for patiently listening to my ideas, freddlerabbit for the beta reading

_Thanks a lot to the ones who left reviews so far! I sound like a broken disk, I know, but you literally make my day any time you drop a comment. So please R&R :)_

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><p>Hotch sees Morgan fleeing and knows already he won't wait for the team.<p>

Years ago, in an impossibly risky situation, he reproached Derek for not trusting the team and acting solo. Whether at that time Morgan's actions were motivated by an impulsive and single-minded ego or by the necessity to keep the team safe even at his own risk, Hotch knows that now things are different. Morgan is different. He's not just a colleague to coordinate; he's an extremely experienced profiler, a dear friend and an invaluably generous human being. Hotch trusts him with his life and he considers him as an equal under every point of view.

So while he watches him rushing behind the young man in the woods, he knows that Morgan is not obeying to some kind of impulsive, egocentric behavior, but he's putting himself on the line in order to find and save his partner from death.

It takes a handful of seconds for the whole team to follow their teammate into the woods. They run, careless of the scarce visibility, of the branches of the trees scratching their arms, of the uneven terrain slowing down their race.

It takes a handful of seconds to lose eye contact with Morgan and get off track in this maze of trees and fog, where every noise is amplified and deprived of direction.

Just a handful of seconds, to fall into an even worse nightmare; this is all Hotch can think of while breathless he stands in an opening, staring at Morgan's gun lying on the ground.

He slowly kneels down, and rubs his face with his hand, searching for an intuition on why the hell Morgan would give his gun up of his own will, trying to dodge the logical conclusion, trying to get some lucidity back.

For the first time since Hailey's killing, he feels an helpless, unstoppable fury taking over and running through him, and he realizes that if something happens to his agents, he won't leave these woods until he put his hands on these unsubs.

* * *

><p>When Emily opens her eyes, it takes some instants to get used to the darkness. Every single part of her body aches, she feels dizzy and nauseous and she has to fight a surging retch at the pit of her stomach. Her hands go immediately to her sore chest, where the cattle prod made contact; the fact that she hasn't had any food since the previous morning, if one considers a cup of burnt coffee as food doesn't help her to approach the situation rationally. She turns on her side with a moan, trying to get up, and she realizes that her head is leaning on something soft: a jacket with the FBI initials printed on the back, has been folded and placed as a pillow under her neck. Just then the foggy, dreamlike memory of what happened into the woods hits her like a truck and she suddenly realizes it wasn't her imagination.<p>

A familiar figure is standing at the opposite side of the room, his shoulders heaving as if he's been doing some physical effort, his arms at his sides, his legs planted on the ground. Too many times she saw that profile in the field, working at her side, having her back. But this time, instead of the usual reassuring feeling of complicity, a pang of desperation pervades her. As she pulls herself up, her eyes shift from him to the perimeter of the room; she notices that several objects are displaced, and they've been moved away from the walls. When she finally understands he's been turning the place upside down in order to find a way out, she sighs and gives him a look of sorrow and worry.

Derek stands still, staring at her, without saying a word, until finally he drops his head and walks toward her to sit at her side. Yet he doesn't look at her, he just stares at an invisible point in front of him and swallows. After taking a pause, he admits, "I'm sorry," almost in a growl, "I should have listened to you."

"And then what?" she asks, a bitter edge in her voice.

Morgan turns to look at her, questioningly.

"A woman wondering in the woods with a killer on the lose," she carries on quietly, her voice more and more raucous, "even if her behavior was unusual since the beginning, we couldn't simply judge her on the base of a hunch."

"I played her game, Prentiss. And this got you here," he argues back, not letting go of his guilt.

"She established a contact with you and we exploited it, as we would have done in any other situation," she calmly soothes him, "and I volunteered to join Officer Madison, nobody pushed me into doing that…" she takes a pause, musing over the reason why she went into the woods, why she willingly put the biggest distance possible between herself and Morgan. She thinks it's ridiculous that, in such a dangerous situation, she feels reassured and empowered just because of his presence. "I didn't mean to question your judgment on the case," she attempts an apology.

"And I didn't mean to snap at you the way I did," he responds despondently. He looks around and feels helpless; talking things out can help them to feel better, but it's not going to get them out of there.

"Did you find Madison?" Emily dodges her troubled thoughts, focusing on the younger officer.

"Yes. He's been hurt, but he was still alive and doctors are taking care of him…" he responds.

Then silence falls, and those few inches parting them seem an impossible gulf to bridge. Emily doesn't know why, but she's surprised in wondering why for Sylvia it was so easy to throw herself into Morgan's arms, relying blindly on his protection, whereas for her opening up to her friend and partner is so impossibly hard. Similarly Derek can't stop thinking of the way Sylvia described his relationship with Emily, like a revelation coming to the surface from a dark far place. Is this just care and true friendship or has their bond morphed into something else? Emily's distant and edgy attitude since they started working on this case wouldn't suggest it, yet the many layers this woman has proved to have are not a surprise to him anymore, but still a source of endless fascination and respect.

"You've been distant and nervous since we got here, Emily." he finally breaks the silence, testing the water.

Now it's Emily's turn to search a spot in the void and to stare at it intently; the memories of a scared kid, lost –no, left – alone, in an immense forest, come back at her in flashes, "I just don't like the woods," she answers distantly.

Derek arches his eyebrows, knowing there's more to it, but he doesn't have the time to ask for more details since a noise from the upper level interrupts them. Emily feels his arm snaking around her shoulders protectively, and she doesn't mind.

* * *

><p>Hotch is by now familiar with his role as team leader; he sometimes hates it, but he knows well how to react to the various situations the job can present him with. He knows exactly how his mind and his body are going to react to each situation, so he welcomes stoically the spasm that clenches his stomach as a tense rope. He concentrates instead in reestablishing his stance, and marches toward the sheriff with determined strides. His tone is not demanding, but his words are so adamant that his questions sound more like an order, and he doesn't care. "I want a man constantly monitoring Officer Madison; as soon as he wakes up I want to be notified immediately. Nobody but my team and me will talk to him."<p>

The sheriff nods promptly, without a single word, so Hotch proceeds with his second request, "I also need you to take me to the man who once lived in the woods. I don't care what's the time, if he's awake or not and if he's going to like me. I want to talk to him, now."

In less than an hour after Morgan's abduction, the team is already on the move, headed to find where the unsub is keeping their friends. They all know that talking to Sylvia and to this mysterious man is now a more reasonable move than combing the woods, and that the search teams will do the job. Yet, while the SUVs are driving back to town, they feel like they're letting their friends down.

Once JJ has regained the faculty of speech and is able to keep the panic under control, she flips her phone opened and dials a familiar number. It takes two rings for the anxious voice of the technical analyst to come up. She's tired and scared, but somehow there's still an inch of hope in her tone.

JJ swallows, searching for words, knowing how shattering the news will be for Penelope, all alone in her office, miles away from her family.

"JJ?" Penelope's words tremble searchingly.

"There was a ehm…situation" JJ starts, while she hears Garcia choking back the tears. Once she's done she doesn't want to hang up the phone, she simply can't accept the idea of leaving Garcia alone.

It's only a minute of sobbing later that she hears another voice on the line, "JJ, it's Kevin. I'll take it from here. We'll go on digging information about the case; let us know if you find something," He informs her with his usual kind but steady voice.

Then, after she mutters a confused reply, he hangs up.

She finds Rossi, who's sitting at her side, looking at her with an apologetic grin. He glances at her briefly and then he admits, "Kevin is a good man and genuinely cares for her. I warned him when we were back in the woods, after we found out that Derek had been taken. Told him to stick around"

JJ smiles grateful and he stares back, nodding with determination, "We'll find them," he promises.

* * *

><p>Jacob Stein is a well-built, surly man. He stops halfway to his garden with a bag of soil on his shoulder and a hoe in his hand, looking totally unruffled at the SUVs parking in front of his house.<p>

"Jacob Stein?" Hotch greets him with a stern look.

The man nods, unloading tool and material and walking toward his guests.

"Agents Hotchner and Reid from the FBI," he motions toward the younger profiler walking behind him, "we'd like to ask you a few questions."

The man braces himself, his feet steadily planted on the ground, "Sure," he mutters, dryly but politely.

"We're investigating a string of homicides in the surrounding woods," Hotch starts and stops immediately at Jacob's reaction.

The man chuckles and then addresses the sheriff with a piercing look. "So you finally listened to me, old dumb bastard, eh?"

Reid turns questioningly to the Sheriff, while Hotch gives a small sigh, predicting he will now discover some other cardinal detail the Sheriff 'forgot' to mention. On the contrary, though, the older officer looks back at him with a blank stare, "I swear I don't know what he's talking about…" he justifies.

"Years ago I told you there was something real bad going on in the woods and that sooner or later you would have to deal with it. But you just dismissed me and went on with your quiet lame life. Now here you are, begging for help." Jacob explains triumphantly.

Hotch sets his gaze on Stein again and carries on, "Have you got any information on the recent homicides?"

"Recent homicides?" Stein repeats in surprise.

For a moment Hotch and Reid exchange a look, not knowing whether to be irritated or amused by this almost grotesque character.

"There has been a series of homicides lately," Reid offers, keeping a safe distance from the man, impressed by his huge hands, hands that can make some damage, "Some hikers, every time a man and a woman, were abducted, tortured and then killed."

"This doesn't sound good," Stein states gravely after a pause.

Reid lifts his eyebrows, looking at Hotch with a clueless expression.

"We agree with you, Mr Stein," Hotch impassively states.

"We know that you lived for a while in the woods into a secluded community. Do you have any ideas on who might be involved in these crimes?" Reid proceeds with the further question.

"No." Stein answers curtly, "I know exactly who's been killing those people."

Reid, Hotch and the Sheriff shift uncomfortably on their toes, "Do you want to share your theory with us?" Hotch invites, his patience faltering.

"His name is Frank. Don't know the surname. Those things didn't count very much over there," he beckons in the direction of the woods at the horizon, "He arrived one day and started infecting the community with his sick ideas about war, human sacrifices, gods to placate with blood. He was delirious."

"Mr. Stein, can you tell us more about this Frank?" Reid asks, he's starting to like Jacob's outspoken attitude.

"We started the community in the 60's. We were a bunch of young idealists not fitting in the modern society. We just wanted to live in peace and seclusion, with our own ideals and rules. Then they started cutting woods to make new buildings and a lot of protesters joined us. Some of them were nice, and some were a bit extreme, but Frank… He was another thing entirely; he was delusional."

"Did you know he was responsible for the first murders?" Hotch cuts to the chase.

"We didn't even imagine that somebody inside our community was resorting to violence!" Jacob justifies in horror, for the first time he loses his mask of indifference, in his eyes a veil of sorrow and pain, "then one day we found Franks with his wife performing some kind of ritual in front of an altar covered with candles and cups full of blood, and …" he takes a pause and rubs his forehead with his hand, when he starts again, his voice his trembling, "When he explained to us what he was doing and where the blood was coming from, all I could think was those poor kids that would have been brought up by a merciless killer.."

"Kids?" Reid asks.

"They had two toddlers, Kyle and Sylvia."

Reid and Hotch exchange a look, the profile being confirmed and the pieces coming together.

"So, you just left?" Reid asks, even though there's no judgment in his voice.

"No! God, no! I'm not a monster!" he defends, "I tried to convince her. She was in love with Frank, but she was also scared by him…"

"But she refused…" Hotch guesses, familiar with this kind of pattern seen so many times over the years.

"They vanished overnight before I could convince her. They reappeared a few years later, out of the blue. One day she came to me, asking me to take her kids and keep them safe," Jacob is exhausted and to contain the tension, starts to walk back and forth in front of the three men, he waves frantically while he carries on his recount, by now speaking more to himself than to them. "I told her that I needed to think, that I didn't want to leave her alone with that psychopath. She was a young, terrified woman, and I was in pain for her!"

"And then?" this time it's the Sheriff to speak, eager to know the ending of the story.

"And then nothing. Someone hit me in the head and I was knocked out cold for a while. When I woke up I went up to their hut and found her dead on the bed, Frank and the kids gone. I left and I never came back."

The sheriff drops his shoulder and arches his mouth in a painful expression, whereas Hotch and Reid can't stop thinking.

Finally Reid voices his doubt "Do you think Sylvia knows that the dead woman in that house was is mother?"

"No, I think Frank brainwashed them and made them think she abandoned them…"Hotch answers, then he turns to Jacob, "Mister Stein, I need you to come to the station. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

* * *

><p>"I did what a man was supposed to do!" Kyle screams back on the verge of tears.<p>

"Your plan was fussy and proved you are an incompetent!" his father argues back, pure loathing in his voice, "if it wasn't for me that man would have gotten you in few seconds. Even he could see you didn't have the guts to kill her…"

For a moment, there's silence. The house, the cellar, all is still. Derek's arm is still firmly snaked around Emily's shoulders and on her hand, that automatically went to lie on his chest, she can feel his heartbeats; strong and regular. The detached approach with which they usually analyze an unsub is now mixed with the anxiety given by the situation involving them closely.

Than a high pitcedh scream distracts her from those reflections.

"You just say that because you're afraid we'll leave. As mother did." Kyle shouts with all his rage against his father.

He replies in a hiss, "I told you not to name…"

"We can never name her!" Kyle interrupts him, which Emily guesses is not a very usual situation, "We can never talk about her, we can't even think about her. We just have to think what you tell us to think. And that's it. But guess what? I've given some thought to what you told us, and I'm not so sure you're right about the people from the Outside."

Morgan and Emily exchange a look of hope, if those two start to fight, it means there's a chance for them to find a breach, a weak ring and use it to escape. But their hopes are soon crashed; the only response Kyle's outburst gets is a raucous, choked laugh.

"Then go. Leave. What are you waiting for?" the man mockingly challenges his son.

Kyle's reaction is a still, astonished silence.

"But then, when your sister comes back, don't expect she will follow you. She will stay with me. She will do what I tell her, and you will be cast away as a dog. Watching her in the distance…"

"She won't," Kyle answers in a barely audible tone.

"She will hate you when I tell her how you left, leaving me alone, exactly like your mother…" he goes on menacingly.

Morgan and Prentiss look at each other in disbelief; speechless at the despise this man has for his own son. The profile of this deviated family, becoming clearer and clearer and not promising any good.

"Or you can stay here and keep your funny theories to yourself," the man, suggests adamantly, "the price to go on keeping your sister safe. Away from those dangerous people."

There's another pause, and Emily and Derek can feel the palpable tension filling the air.

"Promise this is the last time she has to bait," Kyle motions curtly.

There's no direct answer from the counterpart, just a muffled chortle and then an order, as if nothing happened, "Prepare her."

Again the man leaves the house, and soon after the dragging paces of Kyle stops at the trap door.

As the lock clicks, Derek moves to shield Emily but she halts him. She levels her gaze to him and in a whisper warns him, "whatever he does; don't try to stop him."

Derek tries to argue but the cone of light flooding the room stops his words.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: Red Riding Hood

**Author**: Sara Nublas

**Characters**: Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, all team involved

**Rating**: T

**Warning**: violence and creepy scenes

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Criminal Minds, its characters or the tale of Little Red Riding Hood

**A/N**: Many people to thank for this story: withouttracelover996 for the prompt, Nix1978 for patiently listening to my ideas, freddlerabbit for the beta reading

_Thanks a LOT to everyone who took the time to read and review! I can't find words to say how this makes my day every time! I apologize for the wait, my muse has been moody and then the premiere aired (hooorayy!) so I had to watch it at least seven times! But finally there you go with the new chapter and a renewed hope for more regular updates! Please Read and Review! ;)_

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><p>Kyle stands still at the base of the stairs, the cone of light from the upper floor surrounding his figure; he has the prod in one hand, a rope in the other.<p>

He beckons to Emily and addresses her in a dejected, exhausted tone: "you know the drill by now. You do what I tell you and I won't have to use this," he slightly moves the hand holding the prod.

Emily considers her options for a moment, then she stands up, intentionally dodging Derek's searching gaze. She gathers all her self-control, because she knows that the way she plays this round is going to determine their fate.

But just as she takes a step forward she notices that Kyle's body is tensing; then a hand, firmly placed on her shoulder, stops her, and Morgan comes to stand between her and Kyle.

"You still believe you have a say in this, don't you?" Kyle teases the profiler in a challenging tone, his pride still aching for how Derek stood up to his threats before.

"I don't know what your plan is, but you're done playing with her," Morgan responds, determined in not letting Emily go.

"Derek," she whispers, a hands lightly posed on his arm, "trust me, please."

"The problem is not you, Emily. It's him that I don't trust," he responds, keeping his gaze on Kyle.

"I can take it," she pledges, her hand squeezing him lightly, trying to convince him.

"Oh, you can take it," Kyle jumps in mockingly, "but he can't… He can't stand the idea of not being able to protect you. Right?" his gaze sets again on Morgan with a defiant a grin.

Derek doesn't reply. He just takes a step forward, so that now he's completely standing between Kyle and Emily. The two men exchange a long look, until Kyle, tired of waiting and disappointing again his father's expectations, takes a step forward and hits Morgan with the prod.

Morgan, though, doesn't give up the fight, determined in doing everything he can to stop his opponent from taking Emily. When the second jolt of electricity runs through him, he falls on his knees, but that's not enough for Kyle. All his hatred, all his frustration, all the rage he couldn't take out on his father earlier, are now poured on the body of the profiler. Kyle keeps prodding and kicking him, even when he's on the ground, half unconscious. He doesn't care if Morgan dies before performing the ritual, he doesn't care about the Gods, his father, the damn woods, he just wants this man to stop fighting, he just wants him to be weak, cowardly and selfish, as the people from the Outside are supposed to be. He wants him to surrender, because then it will be easier to kill someone who doesn't look like a human being anymore. But the more he hits, the more he sees in Morgan's eyes his bravery and obstinacy, his care for Prentiss –the same care Kyle himself has for his sister Sylvia-. He falters when he realizes that the feeling he has toward these people he's supposed to torture and kill, is not disgust, but respect; and he doesn't react when Emily finally manages to push him away from Morgan. Kyle wakes up from his trance and takes a step back; for the first time in his all life he realizes that no matter on which side of the truth he's standing, he is a killer. He is the monster.

"I'll come with you. I'll do what you want, just stop hurting him," Emily shouts, her voice broken as she kneels down beside Morgan.

Kyle observes her; she checks Morgan's vitals and whispers something to his ear, then she folds a jacket under his head with an affection that reminds him of distant memories, and gets up ready to follow him, hurt and worry filling her eyes, but not clouding her dignity.

For an instant he freezes, dumbfounded by the courage of this woman.

Morgan can barely see out of the haze that is clouding him. His body, his thoughts, his will are numbed by pain and frustration; his only thought is that he couldn't protect Emily, and it aches more than anything else as he sees her disappearing up the stairs. Then darkness takes over his senses and all fades away.

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><p>When Jacob is let in the interrogation room, he suddenly startles at the sight of the young woman sitting at the table. She's certainly grown up since the last time he saw her; and her defensive demeanor, the challenging look, the rage coursing through all her person are sadly familiar traits to him. But aside from that, she's the spitting image of her mother. The memory of Kathy's coy smile and her long hair moved by a light wind when she first looked at him, the mask of fear on her face the last time he saw her, unleash a mix of guilt, hope and thirst for redemption repressed for a long time. For a moment he's overwhelmed with emotion, and when he finally regains speech, only one word manages to leave his lips, almost in a whisper, "Kathy…"<p>

Sylvia, till then unimpressed and unbothered by the stranger, can't help widening her eyes in shock and surprise as soon as she hears that name that for so many years she's been forbidden even to think of. It's a wave of pain, rage, grief and affection that runs through her as the stranger takes a sit in front of her and looks at her as if she was a ghost.

"Who are you?" Sylvia asks Jacob, her whole body tense, her breath shallow.

"I was a good friend of your mother, Sylvia, and I've known you and your brother Kyle since you were toddlers." He leans closer, laying his elbows on his knees.

Sylvia freezes, trying to pull off a poker face, without much success.

She waited for a long time to meet the people from the Outside up close, so as to learn how to strike the enemy from the inside. After all these years, after all the stories she heard from her father, it turns out that these people are not so vicious after all. They care for each other and they're ready to put their life on the line for their beloved ones, exactly as she would for her family. Surprisingly they care even for her; after she sent two of them to die, after she lied to them, what she sees in the eyes of this stranger sitting in front of her, is genuine compassion and concern.

After all these years she realizes that to hunt and kill people in the woods like they were animals is one thing. It's even easy after the first few times, soon you don't see human beings anymore, just rabid animals, parasites that need to be eliminated. It's easy to convince yourself that the thing lying on the ground in front of you, crying and begging for mercy, is not like you, it's something else entirely, something evil. A monster. But now that she's out of her confidence area, alone and without her father telling her what to do, who to believe, who to run away from, things are not so neat anymore.

"We know everything about your family, Sylvia," Hotch lays down the cards. She looks at him, surprised in not finding any malice or thirst for revenge in his words. Her eyes dance frantically between the profiler, the stranger and JJ, who's standing beside the door.

"Sylvia, we will find them anyway, but you can help us to end this story without further blood shedding. Tell us where they're keeping Prentiss and Morgan." Hotch calmly asks.

A wave of confusion and overwhelming emotions runs through her, and she's left speechless and bewildered.

Normally she would turn to Kyle for guidance, but he's not here. It's her call now and a wrong decision could cost his and her father's lives, and she would be left alone. Only in that moment realization suddenly hits her: she is already alone. She killed so many people she lost count; they will never let her go, and whatever happens to her family, she will never be able to come back to them, or to the woods. A crashing feeling of loss that overwhelms her hits when a question finally forms in her mind; did her father know that?

* * *

><p>Kyle closes the bolt on the trap door without losing eye contact with Emily, then he directs her to a chair nailed to the floor and ties one of her arms to it.<p>

"I understand your reasons, Kyle." Emily starts, looking at the cup and the knife laying on the table, and tries to keep her cool.

"You don't know a thing about my reasons..." he answers back, while he hurries to prepare the tools he needs.

"Oh, I think I learnt something by now…" not getting any reaction from him, she bites her lip and goes on, "Everything changed since your mother left, right?"

Kyle freezes for a moment, but gets back to his work immediately, determined in not letting her distract him.

"Your father became more choleric, the rules became stricter and your mother's name became a taboo. He told you to fear everything coming from the Outside, because it was evil and corrupted. He told you to hunt, to torture and to kill. And for a while you thought you could live with that, but then the questions started, and you were not sure anymore that you were told the truth."

Kyle turns to her and removes her bandage, without a word, careful not to cross her gaze.

"Were it up to you, you would have challenged your father's authority a long time ago, but you couldn't leave your sister alone. You need each other…" she carries on, hoping to find a breach, "you probably think that you owe him in someway, because he took care of you all these years after your mother left, because after all, after all he put you through, after all he asked, he never let you down, he was here. While she wasn't."

Finally Kyle looks at her, just for a second, then he grabs the knife and stares at the blade intently, not finding the resolution of doing what he has to do.

"Kyle, do you really believe this is going to be the last time? Do you really believe that you are doing Sylvia's best interest in following his orders? What about your mother? Did he ever tell you the reason why she left?" she urges him, shifting her eyes from him to the blade and again to him.

Finally Kyle reacts. He looks around to check his father is not around and answers her in a hurried whisper, "I don't know, ok? I don't know if he lied about this being the last time, about the people from the Outside or about my mother. But a man's duty is to protect his family, and now I have to think to protect Sylvia," he explains apologetically and leans in closer, tracing a new cut with the knife, just below the previous cut.

Emily turns her gaze as she feels the stabbing pain followed by the iron smell of her blood flowing. Then she looks back at him, "You're wrong, Kyle. A man's job is to stand up for his own ideas, and you are not even close to being a man. You're just a kid, scared of his own shadow. There is only one man in this house right now, and if you had the guts to face him on an even ground, he would prove you that you're not even half the man he is," she growls pushing herself up on the chair to level her gaze to his.

Jacob studies her for a second, confusion clouding his face. He can't understand how this woman can still challenge him so boldly, while she's tied to a chair and he has a knife pointed to her.

She seems to read his doubts, because she carries on, her tone more tired this time as the blood flows out of her wound, starts fogging her strength, "I grew up alone, counting only on myself, never trusting anybody. After a while I grew comfortable in my shell and thought I could live with that. Then I met these people…"

"Your team?" he asks, almost shyly.

"My team. They became my friends, my family, my everything. I would give my life for them. And there's nothing more empowering than the awareness of having someone worth to die for in my life," Emily is exhausted, angry and desperate. She can feel her lucidity and strength slipping away with every drop, her eyelids getting heavier by the second.

"She hugged us and she said she would have taken us to a special place, but she needed to talk to a friend first. She told us it was our secret and we didn't have to tell anything to our father," Emily's attention is suddenly revived by Kyle's words, while he recalls for the first time in years his last memories of his mother.

"What happened then?" Emily pushes him to continue.

"Our father came home and didn't find her. He went crazy," Kyle drops the knife on the table and gets some bandages for her arm, "he wanted to know where she went…"

"You were just kids, Kyle. It's okay." She guesses how the story ends.

Kyle looks at her, pain in his eyes, and surprise because after all he did to her and her friend, this woman is still able to show compassion and understanding. Then he bitterly clarifies, "We were just kids, but I spoke. He tricked me so easily," he chuckles, "He gave me a knife and promised me he would take me to hunt with him…. I had waited so much for that moment that I didn't think twice before giving her away. I guess that's why he trusts Sylvia better than me."

"Kyle, questioning him is not a sign of weakness. It's the exact opposite. We can help you to take Sylvia to a safe place if you let us go away…" she pleads again.

He's about to answer, when he's distracted by a noise and utter terror fills his voice.

He fumbles with the bandages, and unties her haphazardly, "Get up!" he yanks her up and walks her toward the trap door.

"Kyle…" she tries to get his attention again, but he silences her.

"He's coming back. Believe me, you don't want to deal with him in person. Your friend wouldn't recognize you after he's done with you," he urges her down, almost pleading.

Emily can't help but comply; she can barely stand on her feet and her arm aches more and more by the minute.

She watches as the cone of light disappears and leaves her in the dark, then she walks back to Derek, groping her way through the darkness, and sits beside him. He's still unconscious, but she can feel his firm heartbeat through the fabric of his T-shirt as she lays a hand on his chest, and the other behind his neck, so that his head can rest on her lap. As she surrenders to the fact that she has to wait, she hopes in some way her words hit a button in Kyle, and a solitary tear of desperation and discomfort runs down her cheek.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: Red Riding Hood

**Author**: Sara Nublas

**Characters**: Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, all team involved

**Rating**: T

**Warning**: violence and creepy scenes

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Criminal Minds, its characters or the tale of Little Red Riding Hood

**A/N**: Many people to thank for this story: withouttracelover996 for the prompt, Nix1978 for patiently listening to my ideas, freddlerabbit for the beta reading

_Thanks a lot for all the reviews and sorry if I didn't manage to answer to all the comments, I appreciated each of them so much! It's really a hectic period lately and even finding the time to write is getting harder and harder, so you might have to wait a bit for the next chapter... Please R&R!_

* * *

><p>Jacob looks at Sylvia with a heavy heart; he remembers how hard it was for him to come back to society. He was a grown up man with a mind of his own at that time, and he knew already the difference between the Outside and the woods; yet it was a crashing shock to come to terms with it, and to realize that not all of the Outside was rotten and wrong.<p>

This young, stubborn woman, instead, is like a newborn child; she's been brainwashed and kept away from the truth for such a long time; all of a sudden she's forced to face a completely new reality and to make a tough choice. It doesn't matter what her final decision will be, her scars are so deep and the consequences of her actions so definitive that she will never be able to have a normal existence, ever. So many lives are lost, so many futures obliterated, that he can't help wondering if he could have done something more back in time, when Kathy asked for his help, when he realized the monster his neighbor was. Could he have stopped him back then? And, most importantly, can he help to prevent another blood shed now?

Jacob turns to Hotch, his eyes lost in despair, pleading for advice from the profiler, who gives him a nod to proceed.

Slowly, with soft, cracked voice lest he hurt her, he starts recounting: "When I first met your mother it was a hot summer day. She had those blue eyes and a smile that never failed to make me feel at home. There was always an edge of melancholy in her gaze, but every time she saw you and your brother she would light up. She used to say you two were her sunshine."

Sylvia swallows, her nostrils flaring and her windpipe paralyzed by the bewilderment. She looks at him briefly, then away, focusing on a corner of the room. The first memory that finally escapes from the box where she was forced to shove her mother, is a scent, her scent. A mixture of fresh laundry and home made cookies, of cinnamon and blueberries that always made her feel safe.

Jacob carries on, reluctantly, as he can't stand watching the pain on Sylvia's face, "One thing she always used to say and I'll never forget, was that she loved the woods, but she missed the..."

"The sea." She interrupts him, finishing the sentence, almost in abashed surprise. Her voice coming out as a muffled cry, the memory mixing up with his recount, the awareness that no one could know this detail, unless they knew her mother personally.

"She really wanted to take you there once." He promises her.

"Did you take her away from us?" her tone is suddenly loaded with grudging accusation.

"No, Sylvia. Your mother came to me because she was concerned about yours and your brother's safety. She wanted me to take you away from there."

"I don't believe you." Her mask again in place.

The profilers in the room exchange a glance of impatience and tension, on one side understanding the turmoil of dwindling feelings shaking Sylvia's beliefs, but also aware that there's no time to waste.

Sylvia stubbornly tries to refuse what Jacob is trying to explain, while a flash of her father grabbing her mother by her arm and hitting her, runs through her mind, overwhelming her temporarily.

After that it's like Pandora's box has been opened. The memory of that day comes back at her with an impressive clarity. He mother was wearing her favorite blue dress, the same color of the sea during sunny days, as she used to say, and the necklace her mother had given to her when she was twelve, a silver charm shaped like a lily. Sylvia remembers her mother hugging her and Kyle, and making them promise to keep the secret. She remembers how their father went furious when he came back; how he managed to steal the secret from Kyle, how after that they were given the news that their mother didn't want them anymore and walked away. That day she and Kyle promised to stick together and never leave each other.

Hotch interrupts her stream of thoughts, "In the house where Agent Prentiss and Officer Madison were lured into a trap, we found the body of a woman, dead a long time ago…" he says in a soft tone as he lays down on the table in front of her a series of pictures taken inside the cottage.

Sylvia stares at him in disbelief, shaking her head; she doesn't want to look down, she doesn't want to admit what she knows already, she can't accept that the man she trusted blindly for so many years would be capable of that… Then, reluctantly she stares at the pictures; the dress, the necklace, too much of a coincidence.

She remembers how her father never wanted them to go back to that house, how he explicitly ordered her and Kyle to stay out of it. Suddenly she feels so stupid for always complying with his orders. It's a wave of grief, rage, betrayal and self-loathing crushing her, and a retch of guilt clutching her stomach, when she thinks of how the despite she nurtured toward her mother for all the time, actually dirtied the memory of a woman who never stopped loving her. Hotch and the other profilers watch the different emotions morphing Sylvia's face, then her expression sobers up into a cold, unruffled mask, as she addresses the unit chief with a piecing glare, "So, what are my options here?" she asks evenly.

* * *

><p>Derek wakes up and a wince betrays the pain that just shot through his body.<p>

When Kyle got tired with the prod, he moved up to the kicks. Derek knows he could have reacted and shielded himself in some way, but letting the guy download all his rage on him, may have at least spared Emily some brutality.

As he tries to inhale, and coughs painfully, bracing his ribs as a result; he feels a pair of hands steadying his forehead and his shoulders. She's back, he realizes and he allows himself a small sigh of relief, immediately followed by a feeling of failure.

"You really couldn't help yourself, eh?" she asks, continuing to hold him, needing to feel his presence, needing to make sure he's not going to do something reckless, again.

"What did you expect me to do? Stand in a corner while he was taking you to do hell knows what?" he justifies while he sits up, trying to recover his normal breathing rhythm.

"Maybe if you had trusted me…" she can't help the worry turning into rage for his reckless bravery.

"Maybe if you cared to share your plans with a bit more detail…" he retorts.

Emily prepares to answer, but then her temper fades and she lets out a deep sigh.

Derek stares at her, guessing her features and her expression as his eyes get more used to the darkness. He tries to assess what he did to her and if she's hurt, but frustratingly gives up as her gaze is not giving away any emotion.

"He just took more blood from me," she quickly explains, feeling his eyes on her and trying to dodge further questions by answering in advance.

Instead there are no questions, only a long moment of silence.

"Let me check that bandage," he eventually offers, "we have to try to keep the wounds clean."

She complies, and grimaces as he moves her arm under a shard of light coming from a crack in the wood panes over their heads.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, knowing already she will lie.

"A bit."

"What happened upstairs, Emily?" he finally manages.

"I told you, he just took more blood. And we talked."

"You talked…" he skeptically repeats.

"Yes. You knew that if you turned yourself into his punching bag then he would feel guilty and go soft on me. Didn't you?" she holds his gaze.

"I told you I wasn't going to stand by..."

"He could have killed you," she reproaches.

"He could have killed you too," he reciprocates.

"I think I opened a breach," she changes subject, "he's still terrorized of his father, but he definitely doesn't trust him with Sylvia, and he doubts his mother disappeared of her own will."

"Do you think he'll help us to get out of here?" he asks.

"He's devoured by guilt. He feels like he betrayed his mother. He needs redemption…"

Derek looks at her questioningly.

"Maybe." She finally settles the answer to his question.

"Maybe is better than no," he resolves.

Suddenly the whole house has gone quiet, "I wonder what they're doing," he looks up, through the cracked floor, stripes of light drawing his profile.

Emily stares at him in silence. No matter how stubborn, complicated, messed-up and mysterious she is, he's always there for her. Ready to listen and to understand. "You asked me why I was nervous and snappy those days…"

Derek immediately returns his gaze to her, "You don't have to share, unless you want to."

Emily realizes just then that he has never let go of her arm. She lets out a small smile, because it's paradoxical that she can still appreciate these sweet details in such an extreme situation, as she never did before. Then reassured she sighs and begins her story.

* * *

><p>Sylvia stares at Hotch silently, not a shadow of emotion on her face. While Jacob is speechless and scared at the glacial detachment this young woman was able to pull off in a matter of seconds, the profiler studies her calmly. JJ, who by now has witnessed all the possible nuances of Sylvia's demeanor, is still dumbfounded by her duplicity and can't resolve whether to see her as a ruthless killer, a victim, or both. Was she a normal suspect, JJ would probably feel compassion for her. But nothing about this case is normal; Sylvia took an active part in the ordeal that had Emily and Derek taken, and now is bargaining her friends' lives for a way out, there's no room for pity or empathy right now.<p>

"What's going to happen to me and my brother?" Sylvia inquires adamantly.

"You will be processed, and judged for your crimes," Hotch responds evenly.

"Even my father?"

"Yes."

"And I won't see Kyle ever again?"

"Men and women are kept in different penitentiaries," Hotch confirms.

"Will I be able to write to him?" this last question offering the slight trace of an emotion.

"It's possible."

She nods pensively, then she resolves "They're in a house in the middle of nowhere. I cannot tell you how to get there, but I can walk you there…"

Hotch stares at her frank expression and ponders her words; then he offers "You will be under close guard. If you lead us into a trap, or tip your father off, or do anything that might injure my agents, I'll shoot you myself."

She nods unimpressed by his threats.

"How can we know that Morgan and Prentiss are still alive?" Reid jumps in.

"They still have 48 hours before the sacrifice takes place."

"What does that imply?" Reid continues.

"Over the past few days they took blood from her already. At the dusk of the fourth day, a ritual will be performed. They will cut their wrists and ankles and they will beat them to death. Then they will cut them into pieces and offer their parts to different Gods. The blood will be shed over an altar and prayers will be said." The clinical and detached precision with which she describes the ritual gives the creeps to the profilers, who struggle keeping their cool thinking of their friends' lives in balance.

"To be a devoted daughter, she flipped sides very fast…" JJ argues as soon as the team gathers out of the interrogation room.

"She just discovered that her father killed her mother and lied to her and her brother for all these years," the Sheriff jumps in, "I believe she's flipping sides!".

"The photo we showed her could be a fake, and Jacob could be an actor," Hotch explains, "to be a diligent soldier, her change of mind was pretty fast, but almost nothing about her behavior fits into patterns."

"So what does this mean?" the Sheriff inquires further.

"Either her and her brother were already suspecting their father's lies or she's walking us into a trap." Rossi intervenes to explain.

"Then what do we do?" Reid asks.

"We don't have much choice, we let her take us to the hut, but we keep extra-careful," the Unit Chief responds sternly.

* * *

><p>"My grandfather used to be a lawyer. Busy life, all work, running through the big city all the time. One day he got tired of it. He retired, went to France, bought a house in the middle of nowhere and forgot about the world," Emily starts.<p>

Derek looks at her, silently and intently.

"He's always been a lover of outdoors, so it came natural for him to get used to live into nature, get his own logs and food and to find his way into the wilderness. He'd get into town once a month and check his mail."

"How did you end up spending time with him?" He asks, and she's surprised he remembers that detail disclosed haphazardly years ago while working on a case.

"My parents were going through a difficult time and I wasn't handling well the continuous changes of location. So my mother figured out that spending the summer in a stable place, faraway from distractions wouldn't have been a bad idea…" she takes a pause, her mind spiraling in distant memories.

"What happened?" he asks patiently.

"My grandfather turned it into a boot camp. He decided that I needed to learn to rely on myself and no one else and that my character had to be fortified."

"Fortified?" Derek asks doubtfully, "How old were you?"

"Ten at the time."

Derek remains silent, waiting silently and guessing nothing cheerful is about to come.

"At the beginning I even liked it…" she starts after a moment of silence. "Camping outside, recognizing the constellations, getting the woods for the fireplace…"

"And then?"

"Then he became more and more extreme, the hikes were exhausting walks going on for days, we would spend long hours in silence, he would snap for nothing. Then one day we got to this place, a day of walking away from his hut. He sent me to get some woods for the fire and when I got back he was gone. All he had left was a backpack and a note saying to find my way back on my own or don't bother to come back at all."

"He did what?" Derek exclaims in indignation.

"I found my way back eventually. I was so terrified and helpless… I held him a grudge for years. I made my mother promise not to send me there anymore; she didn't ask why, but she never let me spend another summer with him."

"Is this the reason why you were so nervous over the past few days?"

She doesn't respond directly, "I'm not a big fan of living in the outdoors since." She smirks and then she gets serious again, "But when I think about it, I wonder if I have to be grateful to him, because in someway he made me the person I am now..."

"No Emily. You have to be proud of yourself because you turned into the person you are despite what that man did to you," he stresses almost with anger, and Emily wonders if he's referring to her experience or if he's thinking back to what he's been through as a child.

"Nothing can justify him for abandoning you in the middle of nowhere, and if he wanted to teach you a lesson he could have done that in a million different, better ways."

A shiver runs through her as she suddenly starts feeling weaker and weaker. She feels Derek's hand pressing against her forehead and she relaxes against him as he does so. She never shared this confidence with anybody and she never thought it could be so relieving and exhausting at the same time.

When she opens her eyes, she can see how his face has morphed with concern, "I don't look good, do I?" she asks sarcastically.

"We're gonna be fine, Emily. I'll get you out of here. I promise" reassures her and as he speaks he gets closer and wraps her into a tight hug.

As Emily starts shivering with fever, Derek soothes her, running a hand through her hair.

The realization sinking in clearer than ever, whatever it takes, he's not going to let her die here.


	8. Chapter 8

_I thank you all again for the amazing and lovely reviews, for the story alerts and for the love you showed me on here and on twitter. __Again I have to apologize for being such a lousy replier to your reviews, I do appreciate them all more than I can possibly say and I am much grateful for them!_

_Speaking of twitter, if somebody follows me there, I'm gonna be away for a while. Work is being crazy and I think I need some distance ;) But this doesn't mean I won't go on posting stories here! _

_Now, done with the soppy A/N, here's the new chapter! Please R&R!  
><em>

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><p>"Why don't you do yourself a favor and just let it out?" Sylvia asks, while walking few steps ahead of JJ, both hands cuffed behind her back.<p>

"What do you mean?" the blonde agent asks back, confused.

"I saw the way you looked at me back at the station, when they told me what my father did to my mother," Sylvia explains quietly, "you probably expected to see me breaking down and crying, and to you I must look like a monster, right now. But you need to know that I've grown up with a completely different set of values than yours."

JJ looks at Sylvia's back suspiciously, wondering since when has the young woman been concerned about others' opinions and what's really brewing in her mind, "A set of values according to which hunting, torturing and killing innocent people is fine. This is what makes me think of you as a monster," she answers coldly.

JJ waits for a reply from Sylvia, but it never comes. The young woman keeps on walking ahead of her, seemingly unbothered, and again JJ is left clueless as to her intentions.

She doubts Sylvia is trying to find a distraction to gain a way out. Along with her, five other police officers, the Sheriff and the team are walking through the woods, ready to shoot in case of danger. Sylvia is too smart to trying something so bold.

"I need to use the bathroom," Sylvia says after a few minutes, turning toward JJ.

"I thought you were used to the woods," JJ shoots back sarcastically.

"Not when there are nine cavemen, ogling, and ready to shoot me anytime…" she hisses back uncomfortably.

JJ shifts on her feet in annoyance, she's so tired to keep up with Sylvia and to try to read her. She feels impatient and exhausted, only her presence makes her feel edgy and uneasy, and all she wants is to rescue Derek and Emily, shove these guys in prison for a long, long time and then go back home to Will and Henry. She takes a deep breath and calls Hotch, who stops the rest of the search party, and while the others keep at a distance, she keeps an eye on Sylvia. Then it all happens fast, too fast. Sylvia walks toward a bunch of shrubs out of sight from the party, JJ closes the distance, and reaches the spot where Sylvia is supposedly crouched down. She just manages to hear a rustling noise behind her back and before she can utter a sound, something heavy hits her in the head; and everything goes dark.

Only minutes after, but they might as well be hours as far as she's concerned, JJ wakes up confused and in pain. Reid is on one side and Hotch on the other, gently tugging on her shoulder and keeping her down when she tries to sit up.

"What happened?" she muffles, fighting against her dizziness.

"Sylvia hit you with a rock, and ran away… you were out for a while," Hotch explains, his tone is calm and even, as usual, but she can see a worried frown on his face.

"I'm sorry," she sighs out in discomfort.

"Don't be," Hotch reassures her, "She planned this for the whole time. We shouldn't have let you alone with her, even for a second," "Now let's get you to a hospital and take care of that bump on your head."

"A hospital?" she objects sharply, sitting up despite his attempts not to make her move, "I'm not going anywhere without Derek and Emily. Now that Sylvia got away we don't have any time to lose," her tone doesn't leave much room for objections.

Hotch searches Reid's gaze, and the young doctor gives him a reluctant nod.

"If you experience any dizziness or headache, you turn around instantly and you have an officer getting you to the hospital," the Unit Chief warns her, then after receiving her nod, he helps her up.

"Also if you see flashing lights, experience metallic taste in your mouth, smell fragrances that other don't smell or hear music in your head, you might want to get checked up…" Reid intervenes, and slowly halts the list of symptoms at the death glares he gathers from his colleagues, "Well… It's important to clarify the all range of potential symptoms, many times consequence of a concussion have been mistaken for mental illness…" he mutters in self defense, and finally gives up as Rossi shakes his head with a smirk.

* * *

><p>Kyle stops picking up logs from the ground as he hears familiar steps approaching from behind his shoulders. He doesn't even turn around when he speaks, "It's about time. I was starting to think you were enjoying the Outside a bit too much," he spits out bitterly.<p>

"I had to keep my act together," Sylvia defends, "and it's not my fault if they took ages to figure out whom the dead body in the hut belongs to…" she still feels uncomfortable calling it a _dead__body_.

She remembers it as if it was yesterday.

The day she and Kyle found it, a few months before, the day their lives collapsed.

They were coming back from a hunting trip, and the rain suddenly caught them. There was no way to reach their hut without getting soaked, so they ran under the porch of their old house and waited for the storm to calm down.

It was Sylvia who started peeping around, through the dusty windows.

"Stop it!" Kyle warned her, "you know how upset he will be if he finds out we were around here."

"Then we won't tell him," she lazily answered, continuing to look around.

"As if we need to tell him. He'll find it out anyway. He always does…" he eyed her grumpily.

"He finds out because somebody cannot keep his mouth shut," she hissed, "seriously Kyle, you need to man up. I can see it from a mile away when you're lying."

"Maybe I'm not comfortable lying, because every time he's not pleased with something he takes it out on me, not on you, little Princess." He fought back.

Sylvia finally stopped her search and walked back to him, "Hey," she lightly rubbed his arm, "we're in this together. And one day we will get out of here and have our own lives, together," she searched his eyes, and when he looked back at her, there was no more sign of rage in him, so she continued with a soft smile, "Come on, it's just an old house. What on earth so scary can be in there?"

Then, when they broke into the house that was once theirs, they found the body. It took few seconds to realize who she was; Sylvia couldn't stop staring at her, but Kyle had to run away. She found him later, in the rain; drenched and sobbing, his shoulders heaving after he emptied his stomach. When he looked back at her, she could swear those were the eyes of an old man, whose youth and joy had been consumed with guilt and self-loathing in the round of a few minutes.

That day they swore he would have paid for what he did.

Sylvia wipes away the wetness in her eyes, and regains her cold composure, "How are you holding up?"

"Good. Everything is going on as planned. Every time he starts to suspect something, I whine about wanting you back, so he kicks my ass and he goes away for a while…"

Sylvia nods in approval, "And what about them?" she looks toward the hut.

"Do you mean, Prince charming Derek?" he asks mockingly.

"Oh, Kyle, please save me the sermon!" she rolls her eyes, dodging his gaze.

"Hey," he walks to her, grabbing her arm until she's facing him, "I'm not the one who falls for every sweetheart I meet. I'm the one who gets the beating, and I'm not screwing this up this time, just because you think you live in a fairytale."

"Fine!" she manages to get out of his grasp and massages her arm. She stays silent for few minutes, then she says almost in a whisper, "I don't know if I want to kill them though…"

Kyle stops his steps, and looks intently at the logs in his arms, "I know." He finally voices, "They are different."

"Then we don't have to kill them!" She reaches him; hope in her voice, "I mean, they won't find us anyway…"

"He's in love with her, Sylvia. Not with you," he stares at her intently, "You know that, right? And he won't judge you less of a monster just because we spared their lives."

She lowers her head and swallows, then she looks back at her brother's sincere eyes, "I know."

"Then, let's go. We don't have much time before he comes back. And their colleagues won't take much longer to find this hut."

* * *

><p>Derek looks down at Emily, rolled up against his chest; her breath labored, her body shaking with fever. She fell asleep for an hour or so and in that time he searched again every single corner of the room for a possible escape. To no avail. Their only way out is that damn trap door, which means another meeting with Kyle's prod, or even worse with his knife. Even given that he can sustain the fight and keep him busy, Emily cannot walk on her own and she won't stand a chance when she's out. If it's not Kyle, it will be his father to find her.<p>

Derek considers all the possible alternatives once again, all of them leading to a dead end. Eventually he lowers his gaze to Emily and whispers to her ear, "I'm sorry."

As a result she snuggles closer to him and he goes on rubbing her back, trying to keep her safe and warm.

His whole body tenses, when he hears the familiar click of the lock, followed by the wave of light descending the stairs. Only, this time he's caught by surprise by the identity of the visitor, "Hello, Derek," Sylvia walks down, her demeanor arrogant as usual, but she's keeping a safe distance. Unlike her brother she's not looking for a fight.

"I swear this time you're not taking her," he growls, intensifying his hold on Emily; he notices a glimpse of hurt in Sylvia's gaze as she sees how protective he is of her colleague.

"We don't intend to," Kyle intervenes, joining her.

"How did you even get out of the station? Where is my team?" Derek fights back the weakness resulting from the food and water deprivation, and his fight with Kyle.

"They're coming," Kyle's tone has changed now, he's not the shy, edgy guy he was before. He's calmer, gentler and a new resolution took over his submissive manners, "It's hard to explain and we don't have time, but we'll take care of our father and then you'll be free to go."

"Can you walk?" Sylvia asks, her face transfixed, as Emily wakes up and their eyes meet. She's feverish, weak, and yet there's so much so much dignity and obstinacy in the look she gives her abductors. She would fight until there's a drop of life in her. "Take care of her, Derek." Sylvia finally voices, "I mean, take care of her, and stop acting as if you were not in love with each other."

Derek doesn't have the time to speak back. Where to even begin? What to ask? They've been kept prisoner for two days, beaten, tortured, starved, and now they're free to go… Just like that?

* * *

><p>"How do we actually plan to do that?" Sylvia asks, following her brother in the kitchen, "If we let them out now, they won't let us just go. Derek won't, and Emily… god I've never seen anybody so reckless and stubborn. She wouldn't give up the fight."<p>

"I know. She's pretty impressive. They both are…" Kyle admits, reminiscing about the conversation he had with her, the look in Derek's eyes when they fought, then he sobers up, "He's going to be back soon. We take care of him, then we open the trap door and by the time they come out, we're long gone."

Right in that moment, the main door opens and boots walk into the kitchen. The two exchange a tense look. This is the moment they've been waiting for so long, this is the epilogue they've been working up to. They played it thoroughly, calculated the risks, they gambled all they've got to taste their final revenge and conquer freedom from the man who raised them in a lie and left them orphaned of their mother.

Kyle beckons Sylvia and with a nod she walks toward her father, "Daddy!" she throws her arms around him.

"Sylvia, what are you doing here?" he breaks the embrace, baffled and not pleased by the change of plans, yet not as aggressive as he would be with his son, "you were not supposed to come back before we were done. You put the police on our tracks and the sacrifice is not ready yet!"

"You don't have to worry about this anymore, Dad" she smiles back.

Frank looks back at her quizzically and he's about to say something, when his mouth falls open, managing only a muffled cry. His face morphs with pain and he stares down at the knife planted in his chest to the handle. He takes a step back, looking dumbfounded at his daughter, who's staring at him with a peaceful look.

"This is for mum, and for lying to us all these years. Go to hell, Frank," Kyle growls as he comes to his side and takes out the knife, just to stab him again, closer to his heart. The same knife Kyle was bribed with many years ago, the knife that cost his mother life. A nice payback, he considers, as he watches his father die.

Frank falls back to his knees, the mixture of rage and surprise on his face gives him a somewhat dumb look; suddenly he doesn't look so scary anymore. He looks just like an old, arrogant bastard, who didn't expect to die today.

As he exhales his last breath, he leans on a table nearby and grabs the hem of the tablecloth covering it. He drops dead on the floor and he drags the cloth and what's on it down with him.

Kyle and Sylvia watch in horror as the petrol tank falls on the floor spilling all its content, immediately followed by an oil lamp. The spark is immediate and the fire starts devouring everything, cutting their way to the trap door.

They look at each other, sharing the same feeling. Killing has never been a problem for either of them, but this time it isn't as easy as it's always been.

"Wait outside." Kyle orders, shaking his sister out of her horror.

"Kyle…" she tries to objects.

"I said go!"

Sylvia complies, as she always complied to her father before.

She runs outside and she waits, watching the smoke spreading and the flames getting everywhere.

She waits, biting her nails and shifting on her toes, because the young man who's in there, is the only family she's left with. And without a family she's lost.

* * *

><p>Emily has regained a bit of lucidity by the time Sylvia and Kyle confront them. She feels Derek's arms tight around her, and she prays he doesn't play hero again, because she doubts this time she'll have the strength to stop him.<p>

She sees Sylvia and Kyle, she hears them talking nonsense and she thinks she's being delusional with fever. How could Sylvia be here, and why on earth should they set them free after all the effort they put into beating and draining them over the past days?

Then everything goes black again, the ghosts of her hallucination disappear and she's again alone, in Derek's comforting embrace, "What's happening?" she finally whispers.

"I don't know. But I don't like it." He replies huskily, gently placing his lips on her forehead.

Then they hear steps, and voices, and a dead weight thumping on the floor, immediately followed by the noise of glass shattering.

They both hold their breath; then Emily turns to Derek, horror filling her eyes, "Do you smell that? Is it… gasoline?"

Derek knows what this means. He looks up and swallows heavily. The smoke will rise, so they won't suffocate. But if they even managed to get out at some point, the entire house would be on fire and they wouldn't have a way out anyway. Obviously, given that the floor doesn't collapse on them before…They're trapped.

"So, this is it." Emily utters with unusual calm, "this is how it's gonna go down. We're dying like caged mice…"

"We're not dying. I'm going to get you out of here," Derek raises her chin, leveling their gaze.

"Us. We are going to get out of here, together," she points out, "Don't get strange ideas in that stubborn mind of yours."

Derek stares at her for a long, painful moment; Sylvia's words going through his mind again. He can't help wondering if he hasn't lost his chance to be happy, if he should say something or just go on pretending.

"I was jealous of her," she interrupts his thoughts and takes him aback, "I was jealous of how easily she could work her way toward you. And then I was mad because you took her defense, instead of believing me. It's childish, I know… but I…"

"Shh," he silences her, as he gently runs a hand on her cheek, "you are the bravest, most courageous woman I've ever met, Emily. The truth is, I don't know if I'm more scared by the idea of losing you or by the idea of listening to my feelings and messing it up with you."

He gently kisses her forehead, then her cheek, to rest his forehead against hers. When he talks again, it's in a pleading whisper, "Now you have to try hard and stand, because we're going to get out of here."

As he says the words, he ears the lock hinges and sees the trap door fell open. Kyle pops in, he drops some drenched blankets in, "I let you go, you let me go."

He stares at Derek for long instants. No traces of the scared, angry kid in his demeanor. He's a man giving his word to another man.

Then he disappears.

* * *

><p>Rossi is an experienced hunter. He knows how to detect noises where everybody else would just hear silence. He knows how to follow a track, and he sure as hell knows how to realize when something is on fire.<p>

Between the moment he calls for help when he comes in sight of the hut, and the instant he starts running toward the fire, it's a question of a split second.

When the team gets to the house though, there's nothing to do, aside from watching the flames claiming everything on their way. Trying to enter that building would be simply suicidal. They all look at the collapsing wooden structure, while tears and rage fill their eyes and an heavy weight sets in their chest. The weight of loss, of defeat, of guilt.

Rossi tries to look away from his colleagues to mask the tears running on his face, and it is in that moment that he notices something on the side of the building. Lying on the ground there are two familiar and seemingly lifeless bodies, half covered with burnt blankets. He runs toward them, followed by the others right away; they drag their friends' bodies away from the fire, as the sheriff calls for helicopters, medical assistance and search parties for three potential fugitives.

Later as the profilers nervously wait in a hospital aisle, Reid sits back at JJ's side, "What did the doctor say?" he asks gently.

"I'm fine, just a bump. 'Call back if you feel dizzy or have sight problems, or hear musinc in your head…'" she answers despondently.

"JJ, they planned all this thoroughly since the beginning. They had us, and there was no way we could predict their intentions," Reid searches her eyes, his voice almost a pledge to be easy on herself.

"But she fooled me, Reid. Not you, or Hotch, or Rossi…" she answers back angrily, "And if we had gotten to the hut a minute before…"

"Nothing would have changed," Reid cuts her abruptly, "Jennifer, you risked your life to save your friends today, you did an excellent job with Sylvia. Stop beating yourself, you won't help them this way."

JJ looks dejectedly and gratefully at her friend and squeezes his hand as a tear escapes from the corner of her eye, "I'm gonna call Penelope, see how she's hanging on…" she finally resolves, not letting go of Reid's comforting hand.

Hotch walks toward Rossi with a searing look, "Any news?" the older profiler asks.

"They found a burnt body stabbed to death in the hut. Probably the father; Kyle and Sylvia are gone with the wind…" he sighs, "they planned this since the beginning, and we were just pawns in their game…"

"Aaron, it was a tough case," Rossi tries to comfort him, "it hit close to home, we did our job and we took our risks. There's nothing you did wrong."

"I risked losing three of my agents and two of them are still in critical conditions. If this is what you call my best, it means my days as Unit Chief are running out."

"Come on…" Rossi nudges him, "what did Strauss say?"

"She believes I did nothing wrong, for once. But this doesn't mean anything Dave…"

Both the profilers look at a clock hung on the wall, its arms ticking mercilessly, second after second, not caring of changing their rhythm as this family waits and walks through one of their hardest moments. Each one of them with a heavy weight in their hearts, each one with demons, guilt, hope and rage burdening them. Each one hoping they will all walk out of this nightmare together, again, as a team.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: Red Riding Hood

**Author**: Sara Nublas

**Characters**: Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, all team involved

**Rating**: T

**Warning**: violence and creepy scenes

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Criminal Minds, its characters or the tale of Little Red Riding Hood

**A/N**: Many people to thank for this story: withouttracelover996 for the prompt, Nix1978 for patiently listening to my ideas, freddlerabbit for the beta reading

_This is the final chapter of this story. Thanks a lot to all who read and reviewed and encouraged me chapter after chapter. It means a lot and I'm kind of sad to part from this story. I hope you enjoyed it. :)  
><em>

**_Many many thank to all who nominated this fic for the Profile Choice Award. I'm so grateful, you made my day!_**

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><p>The drops of antibiotic dripping in the IV are the first particular Emily's eyes take in as she slowly wakes up. She tries to move and she feels the thin tubes blowing a delicate flow of oxygen inside her nostrils and the bandage around her still aching arm.<p>

Suddenly the memories of the horror she has experienced over the past days, come back at her like the echo of a distant dream. She feels foggy and cranky, her mouth dry, her mind frantically trying to put the pieces together, refusing to give up to the exhaustion of her body.

A hand delicately posed on her arm advises her of JJ's presence at her side; the woman is a mask of weariness, concern and relief all mashed together; her big blue eyes almost swallowed by the deep shadows marking them underneath. JJ's crooked smile breaks as she's about to say something, but gets cut off by Emily. Her words come out with a raspy, chocked sound, Emily herself is surprised hearing the heavy note of panic and fear in her tone "Where's Morgan?" It's all she manages to say.

JJ stares at her friend for a second, a slight surprise in her gaze, not for the request, but for the urgency of it, then she smiles reassuringly, "He's fine. He woke up last night and he's been already checked out by the doctors."

Emily's entire body immediately relaxes as she processes JJ's news, and she lies back on her pillow again. The media liaison looks at her recovering friend intently; there's something about the way Emily pronounced Morgan's name, about the way she's been carefully dodging direct eye contact, that she can't help wondering how far from the truth Sylvia's words were, back in the interrogation room. Before she can broach the subject though, the team joins them and surrounds Emily's bed, welcoming their friend back and finally breathing again.

As she goes looking for a nurse, JJ can't help noticing the look on Morgan's face; he seems on the verge of tears and he's making a huge effort to control his reaction.

She juggles with a thought for an instant, but then she shakes her head, annoyed with herself; two days since they lost traces of Sylvia and still her judgment is poisoned by her deceitful influence. As much as she's happy to know that her friends are safe, the awareness that they've been played since the very beginning, stings her. It stings them all, considering what they have risked on this case.

* * *

><p>"So, when are we leaving this town?" Emily asks impatiently a few hours later, once the doctors have checked her out and confirmed the recovering is proceeding well.<p>

"We'll have to ask you some questions about what happened back there and double check with Morgan's version, but aside from that we're good to go," Hotch reassures her.

Emily silently ponders the answer and then she resolves in a distracted way, "Yes… but I'm afraid I won't be able to add much to what you know from Morgan, my memories are kind of fuzzy, especially for the last day we were there," she plays with the rim of her blanket, staring at some invisible spots on her spotless sheets.

For all the time they are in the room with her, Emily doesn't looks at her friends' faces except for few rapid glances. She can distinctly feel Morgan's eyes on her; and when later everybody leaves to let her rest, she can guess his presence, there, planted on his feet, searching her gaze. Until he relinquishes and leaves the room in silence.

She can't face him, she doesn't even know for sure what's there to face. What they've been through over the past days is not an easy trauma to elaborate; they've been starved and tortured, they thought they were about to die and they almost did.

Everything was heightened and altered down there, in that dark basement; their feelings, their reactions, the perception of what was true and what the result of a very stressful situation. Maybe the imminence of death tricked them with a misleading illusion, or it shed light on their true feelings for each other… No, no, no! She shakes that thought out of her head. Responsible adults don't indulge themselves in this kind of impulsive fantasy; they ponder rationally the consequences of their actions and then act accordingly, she unconvincingly lectures her instinct. Obviously she will have to talk to him at some point, but not now; not until everything is still so vivid and so deeply carved in her memory, not until she stops craving for him to hold her again, just a little longer.

* * *

><p>"So," Garcia repeats, trying to make sense out of the situation, "Sylvia appeared in the basement with Kyle and told you that you were free. Just like that?"<p>

Emily looks wide eyed at the tech, who is leaning toward her, eager eyes, expecting a fully detailed report of what happened. She opens her mouth, thinking of a satisfying reply, but Morgan interrupts her, "Let her breathe, baby girl, by that time she was feverish and almost passed out."

Emily gives him a grateful, awkward look and he nods back; then he sits beside the techie on Emily's sofa and squeezes her arm, "Come on mama, it's time I take you home and we let Emily rest."

Garcia looks around with a shade of melancholy on her face; Emily's and Derek's face to face with death gave such a scare, that the team couldn't stop her from organizing a welcome back surprise party at Emily's apartment.

Now, colorful glasses and a number of empty bottles are resting lifeless on the coffee table in Emily's living room. Several empty plates are precariously piled in a corner and a few nibbled leftovers of a giant cake are scrambled on a tray at the centre of the table. The day is turning to an end and the last rays of light are tracing few stripes on the walls of the almost dark house. Suddenly the dim silence of the room brings up a feeling of solitude and sadness.

"JJ, Can you switch on the lights please?" Emily asks in an almost inaudible whisper; darkness makes her feel uncomfortable since she left that basement. Not that with the lights on it's better; she has to guard her expression so as not to let the discomfort on her face betray her when there are other people in the room. And since she's been back, they all have cared never to leave her alone. She as well put special care in not being alone with Derek, ever.

Hotch walks back in the now silent room, his sear look immediately becomes the focus of the attention, "I just got off the phone with the Sheriff..." he starts.

"What's up?" Rossi asks, immediately worried about another abduction in the woods.

"Officer Madison just woke up from the coma. Doctors say his recovery will be long and slow, but he's fine and happy to be with his family again. He sends his greetings and thanks to all of us."

Everyone cheers up at the good news and the uneasy atmosphere of a moment before is promptly lifted.

"What about Kyle and Sylvia?" Emily asks then, sobering all the audience.

"No trace yet," Hotch confirms what she knew already.

It's JJ who breaks the awkward silence that follows, "I think I've never been so conflicted over an unsub before…" she starts, "I mean, those two were killers and well aware of what they were doing, yet I can't help thinking that if they had grown in a different environment and not with a killer, in the woods, cut off from society, maybe life would have been different for them…"

"Yes, frail kids on one side, cold blood killers on the other…" Rossi reinforces "They meticulously followed and profiled us. They drove us into an elaborated trap and they were ready to kill Derek and Emily and us all without blinking in order to wage their revenge on their father."

"But they chose not to…" Emily intervenes, "they've been taught to hate the outside, but at some point a crack opened and they were strong enough to doubt the only set of rules they knew. They were able see some things with a clarity that we don't have..." she finally searches and meets Derek's gaze.

"Well, all we can do is being grateful that you two managed to convince them to spare you," Rossi finally says, the intense looks Morgan and Emily have been exchanging over the past few days haven't escaped him, "And hope not to have any news about them anymore."

Garcia glances over the grave faces in the room and then snorts, "I swear if I ever have a baby I will never tell him or her fairy tales. Red Riding Hood, Hansel and Gretel, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, they're all banished. Forbidden,'" she states resolutely.

The profilers exchange an amused look, "As a rule, this is impossible," Reid points out, "According to Jung, the symbolic language of myths and fairy tales is composed of timeless forms that he calls archetypes, which are the basis of the collective unconscious shared by all humans, which means..."

"Which means that deep down I might be an evil witch ready to turn you into a rat whenever you cross me," Garcia curtly cuts him, a malicious grin arching her lips.

Reid glances, lost, at the giggling group and seals his lips in forfeit, then he chuckles when Rossi promises he will never accept an apple from Garcia anymore.

* * *

><p>Eventually Emily gives in to exhaustion and falls asleep on the couch. Morgan greets everybody and takes care of the dishes, wavering when he's done and looking for an excuse to stay a bit longer. Once he finally resolves to leave, he finds Emily awake, sitting on the couch, looking at him.<p>

"What did you mean before, when you said that Sylvia and Kyle could see some things with more clarity than us?" he asks leaning on the doorframe of her living room, keeping a distance and watching her wound up in a blanket.

"Maybe things are really as simple as they believe. Maybe the excuses we find to avoid facing the truth, the many reasons we come up with to define something as wrong, are just a product of our fears. And we end up miserable at our own hands," she speaks, her words broken by tension and confusion, the awareness of Derek's eyes fixed on her not helping to steady her resolution.

Morgan takes a couple of minutes to process what she just said, then he finally takes a step forward, "You said you didn't remember anything."

"I lied," she simply admits, looking away.

"Why?" the mere, legitimate question opening a gulf under her feet.

Emily is gripping one of the handles of the sofa so tight that her knuckles are turning white, so tight that she thinks it might break in her hands.

"Emily?"

Silence.

"Emily…" his voice becoming low and husky. A whispered plea.

"Em…" he reaches her and takes her hand in his, releasing the grip on the handle, and sitting beside her.

Then he waits, patiently holding her hand, the first contact after they came back form the woods. It's excruciating how he misses the feeling of her body close to his. The way she surrendered to him and she accepted his support. He knows what a leap this is for Emily, usually so controlled, so fiercely defending her autonomy, always standing at his side and having his back, but never accepting his help unconditionally.

"Because I'm scared," she finally meets his gaze. Her hand opening and entwining Derek's, as she welcome that comforting feeling she has missed so much.

"When we work together, I know that you have my back and I have yours. But I also know that at the end of the day we'll go our separate ways and I will be taking care of myself. There is a line beyond which you are not responsible for me. Instead down there, you were ready to give your life for me…"

"So were you," he intervenes.

"And this doesn't scare you?" she inquires him, helpless fear in her eyes. For the first time Derek really understands how afraid she is to lose control, to lose track of where that thin line runs.

"It does. But it also make me feels stronger," he soothes her.

Emily remembers her conversation with Kyle, when he was taking her blood away, when she told him how empowering it is to have somebody to care for; but this is different. This overwhelming, crushing feeling leaves her helpless, blind, scared, like a child in the night.

"Do you know what really scares me?" he asks searching her gaze.

"What?"

"The idea I could have died without realizing how precious it is, what we have. This is damn scary to me."

Emily looks at him, hating that she feels so clueless, so weak and needy; hating that she wants him so much, "Derek, you almost got killed twice for me. I don't know if I'm more scared or furious about that. What the hell were you thinking?"

"The same you were thinking when you decided to offer yourself to Kyle," he answers back, "the only difference is that I wasn't jealous of him…" he tries to mock her.

"He wanted to butcher me. He didn't run toward me, open arms, with puppy eyes and broken voice, like the idiotic heroine of a soap opera..." she remarks pointedly.

"What do you mean?" he can't help chuckling.

"That in certain situations even the best trained men can be ridiculously gullible. She got you since the very first moment…" she tries not to lose the point, even though she can't help the hitch of jealousy.

"Oh, hence your brilliant plan to get kidnapped…" he reinforces.

"No, hence my attempt to spare the soppy scene of her gripping your arm and grinding against you!" she defends, struggling more and more to keep a demeanor, "Truth is, you would be lost without me." She leans in with a resolute grin, expecting him to carry on the mockery.

Instead his eyes become darker and darker, his hold on her hand a bit tighter and his voice so deep, "You're right. I would."

Emily swallows and takes in his scent. No matter how hard they try to fight it, no matter how complicated it can be to raise the bar so high and get personally involved. It's beyond their control now, they trespassed that line that she clenches to so desperately, long ago. How much longer can she turn down someone that is so close and that she wants so badly and, surprisingly, wants her back?

She doesn't falter as he closes the distance and seals a kiss; their lips first indulging in a soft touch then becoming searching. She doesn't resist when he walks her toward her bedroom without stopping kissing her. She has wondered many times if this feeling was just the by product of danger and fear hovering on them, and if it would survive once they got out of that moment; now she has the definitive proof that this is not a transitory illusion or a fling sprouted by the adrenaline. And it's terrifying and relieving at the same time.

Later as she relaxes in his arms, again at ease in the dimness of the room, her hands placed on his chest feeling his regular heart beat, she can't help the question "What do you think they will do?" she asks, thinking back to Kyle and Sylvia.

Derek passes a hand through her ebony hair, "I don't know. I think all we can do is to hope they use their second chance wisely."

"It gets so difficult sometimes to disentangle the human being from the monster, and as much as you try to turn it, it never makes sense," she looks up and hold him snug.

It doesn't make sense most of the time, Derek thinks. Why the switch flips on some people and sometimes, and not on others will never cease to baffle him.

He could have turned into a monster with all he went through as a child, Emily could have become a ruthless, detached woman considering her cold mother and her almost abusive grandfather; instead here they are, trying to make sense out of each other, holding the pieces together and fighting recklessly every day so that others don't have to go through the emotional scars they know so well.

He looks down at Emily, asleep in his arms, her features relaxed and the hint of a smile on her lips after so many gruesome days. Just seconds before dozing off he reluctantly admits to himself that sometimes, though in a twisted way, happy endings do happen.

* * *

><p><em>AN: This is the end of the story. I thought of many different epilogues, many of them including a section showing what happened to Kyle and Sylvia, once they were committing suicide together, another coming back to the old ways, another one taking a step in the Outside and starting a new, 'honest' life from scratches. I couldn't make up my mind, so I decided to leave it up to you and to your personal take on them. I hope this doesn't disappoint you and that you enjoyed the story._


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